


Indelible

by leaper182



Series: Sketches of the Soul [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaper182/pseuds/leaper182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates are supposed to be a source of comfort, joy, and inspiration. Unfortunately, that's not exactly what happens for Ori.</p><p><a href="http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3651.html?thread=8328515">From Part 6 of the Hobbit Kink Meme</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking for Someone

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the idea of posting a WIP, but at this point, I really needed to post something, or I was going to go nuts. ARGH.
> 
> Also, a big, big thank you to [ForAllLove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAllLove/pseuds/ForAllLove) and [sum_nemo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sum_nemo/pseuds/sum_nemo) for beta'ing chapters. I couldn't have continued this project past the initial thought stages without you. <3

The gauntleted fist that pounded on the door to their home sounded like thunder.

It had startled Ori badly enough that he'd nearly spilled his bottle of ink all over the parchment he was transcribing. Heart pounding, he righted the bottle, set his quill down inside of it, and then shouted for Dori before remembering that his brother hadn't returned home yet. Sucking in a deep breath, he was about to wrap his robe more firmly around himself when the door pounded again in three sharp strikes, causing him to yelp. "I'm coming!"

He scampered for the door, opening it to reveal three uniformed dwarves, complete with shining, distinctive helms. Ori's eyes widened.

"How can we help the city watch?" he asked in a polite, if squeaky voice.

"We've come for Nori, son of Haldi," the brawniest one snapped. His beard was loose and black against his uniform. "Where is he?"

Eyes still wide, Ori shook his head. "Nori isn't here. He hasn't been here for a week."

The other two dwarves traded a look. Or, at least, Ori thought they did -- their helms covered everything except their noses and beards.

"Where is he?" the first dwarf snapped again.

Ori jumped. "I don't know! He and Dori got into a fight, and then Nori stormed out! He hasn't been back to eat or sleep or anything!" He clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering.

"He's got some brains on him, at least," the second dwarf grunted.

"Or some loyal family," the third one growled. "Stand aside, boy."

"No," Ori said as firmly as he could.

"No?" the second one asked in a deceptively mild tone. "You already know we're the city watch. You want to rot in a dungeon for harboring a fugitive?"

The other two were eying him warily, their hands moving towards the axes on their belts.

Ori felt his cheeks burn. "No, I don't, but I'm not a boy," he said, his wavering voice belying his words. "And you have my word that Nori's not here."

"You'll forgive us if we don't take the word of a _young_ Erebor refugee," the third one said snidely.

Then all three dwarves pushed right past him as if he weren't there.

"Hey!" Ori yelped. "Just a moment!"

The first one stopped in his tracks, his helm moving as he very deliberately looked at Ori from head to toe and back up slowly, taking in the slight frame swallowed by Dori's old robe; the shaking, ink-stained fingers; the rough-hewn haircut adorned with four small, ginger braids. Ori straightened up, desperately trying to look like he was older than fifty-seven and failing miserably. For a moment, the dwarf seemed focused on his shoulders, and then he shook his helmeted head once, hard.

The other two, finished with their search of the house, returned to the front door. "He's not here."

Ori glared at them, though it was about as useful as glaring at a mountain. "I told you not five minutes ago--"

The first dwarf grunted and jerked his head at the door. "He'll be back sooner or later. Blood's thicker than water, especially for us _Erebor_ folk," he said stingingly to the third dwarf." He spared a glance at Ori. "Sorry to have troubled you."

Ori drew himself up indignantly. "Always glad to help the city watch," he blurted out angrily.

The third one bristled, but the first one grabbed the angry dwarf by the shoulder and shoved him out the open door. As they headed down the hall and away from the refugee section of the residential levels, Ori could hear two of them muttering about impertinent dwarflings, and the first one growling at them to shut up.

Ori closed the door quickly, locked it, and sagged against it, the surge of adrenaline he'd gotten from the startlement gone.

With any luck, he'd never have to deal with them again.

And then he remembered that this was Nori they were trying to arrest.

Sighing heavily, Ori headed back to his writing desk, and hoped that he could get some more work done.


	2. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Ori soulspeaks for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually kind of proud of this chapter. It's one of the few that doesn't actively embarrass me? (Hoo boy.)

Ori explained what had happened when Dori got home later that evening, but since Dori had had no idea where Nori was either, there was little they could do. Ori had debated whether or not to make some kind of mark on the door to warn Nori away, but Dori snapped at him, because "Nori is not the sort of dwarf to look up to, and helping him to evade the consequences of his actions won't do him a bit of good. Mark my words, Ori, one of these days, he's going to get into quite a predicament, and he's not going to be able to escape it."

Luckily, Nori came home two weeks later, a bruise standing out vividly on his cheek, and the dwarf with the long, full beard holding onto one of his arms in what looked like a painful grip. 

"Make sure he stays out of trouble," the dwarf growled to Dori before stomping away, leaving Dori to fume at the city watch, and at Nori.

Life continued in the Blue Mountains as it always did -- Dori left early in the morning for the tailoring shop where he worked, Nori disappeared for parts unknown like he wasn't supposed to (and Ori tried not to worry when he found out), and Ori kept the house clean in between copying some of the older texts they had around the house that were starting to wear out.

He was hard at work, copying one of Dori's histories of Erebor when he got distracted.

It was a little embarrassing, really. He'd always gotten funny looks from Nori when he'd first talked about how fun it was to copy books and illustrations and such, and he'd prided himself on being so focused when he sat down to work that he would only look up when Dori had to tell him to eat dinner, or to go to sleep.

Ori didn't remember feeling tired, or achy, or anything like that. Sure, his neck got stiff from hunching over sometimes, but that was pretty normal, and he was used to rolling his neck every once in a while in order to loosen it.

But, sure enough, one moment, his eyes had unfocused, the runes blurring across the page, and then the next, Dori's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. "Ori? Ori, can you hear me?"

Ori blinked a few times, and then hissed in pain, his hand going to his neck, which was screaming bloody murder. "Yeah, I can hear you. Ow."

"What're you doing in the dark like this?" Dori asked, patting his shoulder.

"Dark? What do you mean, dark?" Ori asked, realizing just how stupid his question was a moment later when the room came into focus, and he saw just how dark their front room had become. "Oh."

Ori could hear his brother chuckle off to his left before the older dwarf returned to the room, cupping his hand around the flame of a newly-lit candle. "You usually keep a few more candles lit when you're working in the afternoon. Fell asleep, did you?"

"I..." Ori frowned. "I'm not sure."

Dori chuckled again, carefully approaching Ori's writing desk and lighting the candles on the shelf that Ori kept there to keep the room well-lit. "Well, I hope you ate something before you wandered off into your own head-- oh? What's this?" He frowned down at the paper on the desk.

Ori blinked, looking down as well.

There was the first few lines that Ori remembered setting down, clean and crisp (if Ori did say so himself), and then the ink from one of the runes had run down the paper, and it looked as though the wayward ink was used to draw the face that took up the rest of the page.

The dwarf, whoever he was, was older than Ori -- over a hundred, at least, though he looked like he was closer to a-hundred-and-fifty, and he was the rugged kind of handsome that made Ori think of a miner or even a warrior. The top of his head was bald, the rough skin showing tattoo work done in crisp, dark lines. The hair trailing down from the sides of his head was black, hanging down without braids. The same held true of his full, black beard. Dark, penetrating eyes stared up at Ori, as if daring him to make an issue of his appearing there under two sentences about the beginning of Thorin I's reign.

"Who is that?" Ori blinked. He looked up at Dori, absolutely bewildered, only to find his eldest brother beaming at him.

"Your soulmate!" Dori said, hugging his little brother. "Congratulations, Ori! Oh, I'm so glad that one of us actually has one. I was starting to despair that you'd never be properly taken care of." He kissed Ori very firmly on the top of his head and hugged him harder, if that were possible. "Now, let's see what your dwarf looks like, hmm?"

Ori stood there, his mind suddenly blank from shock. Dori had told him years ago about soulmates at the same time as he'd given him The Talk that every dwarf seems determined the embarrass their children or younger siblings with -- every dwarf had someone who was created just for them. He or she (soulmates could be the same or opposite gender, and no one seemed to mind since there were so few dwarf-maidens) was the one dwarf in Middle-Earth who was supposed to complement you and your skills. They would love and honor you even after death, and there were even footnotes in old tales of soulmates being able to tell what the other was thinking or feeling.

Ori hadn't thought about it in years, but now... he looked at the sketch again, his stomach rolling and twisting. There was a handsome dwarf staring up at him from a piece of paper, their souls bound together. What would he think of Ori? What would Ori think of him? What kind of dwarf was he? What would he think of Ori wanting to become a scribe? ... Would he be proud to call Ori his soulmate? Ori swallowed hard. There were so many possibilities, he almost started to feel dizzy.

Dori shook his head, still grinning. "I didn't think it would happen, to tell you the truth. Back in the days when we still in Erebor, it was fairly commonplace for a dwarf to be able to find the one who belonged to them, but since the attack, and since we lost so many people trying to retake Moria, it doesn't happen all that often anymore."

"Wait," Ori began slowly, frowning. "I thought you had to concentrate in order to do something like this?" He pointed at the sketch. "What was it called again? Soulspeaking?"

Dori gave him an indulgent smile. "Mm-hm. The first time or two when you soulspeak, it will happen completely without warning." Catching Ori's expression, he explained, "You won't know that your soul's trying to talk to you, so it has to start the conversation, in a manner of speaking. It takes time and practice to learn to soulspeak deliberately. Many dwarves figure out the knack of it, especially if they haven't found their soulmate yet."

"So, that's what I was doing?" Ori asked, surprised. "It felt like I'd blacked out or something."

"Of course it did," Dori said as if it made perfect sense. "There's too many distractions all around you, and your soul wants to find its mate, so it'll take your undivided attention. If you try to fight it off, it might end up giving you a headache. I remember Mother telling me about how she tried not to soulspeak when she was working at her forge, and she had terrible headaches when she finally got home and let it happen."

Ori breathed in slowly. They didn't talk about Mum. She'd passed on years ago, during the evacuation from Erebor when Ori was just a baby. To hear Dori talk about her felt like he was reading footnotes from pages that had fallen out of a lost tome. "Did she find her soulmate?" he whispered.

Dori smiled, eyes glittering more than usual. "Who do you think our father was?" He cleared his throat firmly, and then clapped his hands together. "Now, let's see what your dwarf looks like, shall we? You can always tell something about them through the soulspeaking."

"You're not going to use old wives' tales, are you?" Ori groaned. "Like, if he's looking to the left, that means he's run afoul of the law or something?"

"Say what you like about them, Ori, some of those 'old wives' tales' have some basis in fact."

Ori shot his older brother a skeptical look.

"All right, not all of them," Dori admitted, picking up the sketch and held it up to the light, eying it critically. "Still, I didn't realize your skill in illustration was going to be so useful for getting such a clear soulspeaking. Look at how handsome he is! And that nose! And his eyes, quite intelligent--" He shot Ori a conspiratorial look. "I think he'll do quite nicely for you. A bit older than I would've expected, but that just means he'll have more of a chance to be better settled and financially stable. I wonder if those tattoos are from guild accomplishments or kills in battle." He frowned for a moment before shrugging. "Well, if he's a warrior, then all you need to worry about is just keeping the house in order, which you've been doing just fine for us, though the floors could stand to get swept a bit more often."

Ori rolled his eyes, trying to grab the paper back. "Can I have it back, please?" he asked, knowing full-well what the answer would be.

"Of course not," Dori replied airily, still examining the sketch. "Now, if you look at the tattoos on his skull..."


	3. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, what does a young dwarf who wants to become a scribe do when confronted with something he doesn't know too much about, besides the embarrassing Talk his eldest brother inflicted on him when he was younger?
> 
> Research it at the library!

The library in Ered Luin was large. According to Dori, it wasn't as large as the one in Erebor, but for Ori's purposes, it had been large enough. He knew the librarians there by name, if not by face, and every once in a while, he'd gotten some spare coin by copying an older tome in the collection, much to the delight and satisfaction of the head librarian. There had been some talk about possibly taking him on as a scribe, but nothing had come of it. It was a shame, really, that the librarians already had apprentices, or else they would've taken Ori on in a heartbeat, he was sure. The lord of the mountain valued knowledge, but with the influx of refugees in the past few decades, there were other matters that required his attention first. As such, any additions to the library staff had to wait.

Ori didn't mind, though. He wanted to earn some coin so that he and his brothers could live a bit more comfortably, but he knew he wasn't old enough to be taken on as a worker, at least not without being apprenticed.

"Ah, young Ori," the dwarf behind the front desk greeted with a warm smile, his voice a booming rumble that always reminded Ori of thunder. The older dwarf's beard was red shot with grey, and reached the belt of his robe, curved with Ered Luin braids. "Come for more transcription work?"

"Sorry, no, Master Hamal," Ori apologized, "I'm actually looking to research soulmates."

Hamal's eyebrows jumped. "Soulmates? I think we've got a fair number of books in the collection. But before I start dragging you all over creation, what do you know about them so far?"

Ori smiled. He'd seen this line of questioning before, when dwarves came in to use the collection. "I'm looking more for history, any records about soulspeaking, any soulmates that were noteworthy enough to be written about, especially if it includes anything about their bond." He winced. "It's a bit of a long shot, but I figured anything might be better than nothing."

Hamal nodded firmly. "There might be more than you think. There've been a few dwarven scholars over the ages that've had a few things to say about soulmates. And you're looking for more about the bond itself, you say?"

Ori nodded, leaning forward a little on the desk and pitching his voice a little lower. "Well, I've soulspoken once already, but I'm a little worried."

The old librarian blinked again. "What, a strapping lad like you? Worried?" he boomed. "Whoever it is is going to be lucky to have you around!" He slapped a hand down on the desk before walking out from behind it and waving Ori to follow him.

Ori followed along, weaving in and out of narrow aisles crammed with tomes that looked ready to drop at a moment's notice. Hamal paid them no mind, muttering to himself and stopping every once in a while to glance at a few books, only to dismiss them and continue on. After a few sections, Hamal stopped in front of one section with books that looked more worn than the ones around them.

"Ah, here we are," Hamal rumbled, though his voice sounded soft enough to not carry past the two of them. "The scholarly research on soulmates." He tapped a few of the tomes at eye-level, easing one of them out to show part of the title. "There's a few tales of great heroes from the Second Age here, though if you're looking for any of the more obscure things, you'd have to put together a quest for one of the lost dwarven kingdoms." He shook his head sadly. "I've heard tell that the library of Erebor nearly rivalled the one kept in Moria. Pity such a fine collection should fall into the claws of a dragon."

"Maybe one day, I'll stage an expedition to try to liberate it." Ori grinned.

Hamal grinned. "If you do that, lad," he whispered conspiratorially, "I know of a fair number of scholars who would praise your name to Mahal himself. Alas, we've only this little here. Any other tomes might be found in Rivendell."

Ori frowned. "Rivendell?"

"Oh, aye," Hamal nodded. "Elves need to write down all the things they lived through so that they remember the details right." He winked. "You going to be all right with this lot?"

Ori looked over the shelves and nodded. "Is there a table nearby? I'd hate to damage these."

The librarian pointed down the aisle. "Down this way, straight ahead, can't miss them. And when you're finished, you can leave them there. We'll have one of the younger ones put them back."

"Thank you, Master Hamal."

Hamal shook his head. "No need, lad, no need. If you're not finding what you're looking for, let me know, and I'll see if I can't find some other things that might help."

Ori thanked him again, and as Hamal headed back towards the front desk, Ori wrestled down one book and headed for the tables.

A few hours and several tomes later, Ori was scratching his head. He'd found the research about soulspeaking that he'd expected -- when it usually happened, how prevalent it was (at least in the Ered Luin population), some examples given different trades. Apparently, there weren't a lot of scribes who had soulspoken, since most of the examples listed were from dwarves that worked with their hands.

Ori was surprised by how many dwarven heroes had actually had soulmates, though he figured he shouldn't have been. The hero always had a companion along with him, and if they hadn't discovered their connection before the quest was undertaken (or the mountain discovered, or the treasure hoard reclaimed, or whatever), they ended up finding one another afterwards.

It had all boded well for Ori and the face in the sketch, until he'd happened upon a tome wedged behind three others on the shelf.

Ori brushed off enough dust from the tome to know that it hadn't seen daylight for some time. The title had been worn down, and the pages cracked and yellowed. Thinking that perhaps this would be something to declare, once and for all, that Ori had nothing to fear, he'd carried the tome to the nearest table and paged through it.

It was a collection of tales of famous heroes from the Second Age, but as Ori continued to read, he found that each of the tales included something that most versions of the stories didn't.

One such example was the tale of Dethal, the Second Age dragon-slayer.

The tale was fairly standard: Dethal and his trusted companion on the journey, Taldur, had ventured forth to slay a dragon that had invaded the Iron Hills. Dethal and Taldur turned out to be soulmates, and they'd committed themselves to each other fully before setting out on the quest. 

Traditional versions had gone on to say that Dethal had suffered terrible wounds in battle, but soon recovered with the help of his soulmate, and they lived happily ever after.

According to the tome, however, Dethal had sustained a heavy blow to the head, and afterwards, his behavior had changed so much that he had almost seemed like a completely different dwarf altogether. He still retained his memory, but after the dragon was taken care of, there had been a record of the bond between Dethal and Taldur changing, and not for the better.

After having read the tale, Ori had found himself both skeptical and aware that he could easily believe it. He'd heard more than enough tales from Dori and Nori of wounded veterans who'd returned from the battlefield changed from the dwarves they were before. Heroes weren't immune from injuries, or dying nobly in battle. Would it have been possible that whoever wrote down the story of Dethal and Taldur had tried to cover up what happened in the aftermath? Or was this a version of the tale that had been set down out of jealousy, because the author couldn't stand the soulmates being happy together after facing down a dragon and surviving?

Shaking his head, Ori loosened his neck gingerly before encountering the tale of Baern and Adalaur.

Not familiar with the names, Ori kept reading, only to discover with some surprise that these had been the dwarves responsible for recovering one of the lost axes of Durin in the latter half of the Second Age. 

While Ori had heard that the axe in question had been reclaimed through the noble efforts of a hero, the story had always been briefly mentioned, but never explained fully.

According to the tome, it was because Baern had been raised in a city of Men, forced to work in a brothel from a young age by his parents. He'd apparently undertaken the quest in order to find the axe to sell it to the highest bidder, and found himself unable to fence it when someone identified it and lauded him as a hero.

The less said about what happened to his soulmate while Baern was alive, the better.

There were more tales.

Dungan and Nola, who had met only days before one or both of them had been killed -- the last page of the tale had fallen out long ago, which had Ori gritting his teeth and trying not to curse loudly.

Kelden and Morda, who'd found each other after years of searching, but forced to part because they had each married other dwarves and couldn't forsake those vows.

Tamara and Ansa, daughters of feuding clans who tried to bring their families together with their marriage, only to be murdered on their wedding night by Ansa's family for the outrage of betraying blood.

Ori eased the tome shut, and breathed in deeply.

He kept himself busy with arranging the tomes in an orderly stack, using his jacket to wipe the dust off his hands.

He didn't remember leaving the library, or the walk home. The next time he was aware of his surroundings, he was laying on his bed, staring at the sketch he'd made from his first soulspeaking, and wondering if he really wanted to have a soulmate after all.


	4. Another Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time it happened, Ori wasn't prepared for it. Now, he's just annoyed.

The next three weeks passed in a haze.

Ori had two more soulspeakings, both of which had been as sudden as the first.

There weren't many differences between the three sketches that Ori now stared at. The dwarf still handsome, looked about a hundred years older than him, sported the same broken nose, revealed the same tattoos on his head. He was dressed in furs and leathers in all three pictures, though the third sketch showed that he carried at least one axe on his back. The second sketch showed that part of the dwarf's right ear had been bitten off by something large.

His soulmate, whoever he was, looked like he was quite comfortable with using that axe.

It was almost too easy to imagine himself and the dwarf in his soulspeak sketches cast in the roles of Dethal and Taldur. One lucky shot by an orc, or a goblin, or whatever creature they were fighting -- and _they_ would be fighting it together -- and his soulmate would be lost. He might not be the same dwarf anymore. He might even be unable to walk or care for himself afterwards, and Ori would be the one taking care of him. If they lived to be a ripe old age and their battles were done, they still faced the same fate.

And yet, despite the tales Ori had read three weeks ago, in all of the pictures he'd drawn, the dwarf only stared him down. He wasn't happy, he wasn't sad, he wasn't even angry. Mahal's beard, he didn't look like he was feeling _anything_. Instead, the dwarf looked like he was waiting for Ori to make the first move.

If that was how his soulmate would act outside of soulspoken sketches, Ori was worried about how they were going to be able to have a decent conversation, let alone do... anything else.

Sitting at his writing desk with more than enough candles lit for ample light, Ori squinted at the sketch, taking in the tattoos. He tried to find any noticeable scars on the bald pate, but to his relief, there was only one over the dwarf's right eye, which looked more like a suggestion of his quill than a serious injury. At least he didn't seem to have taken any blows to the head.

Ori would've sighed in relief if it hadn't been for the three sharp knocks against the front door.

"Open up!" a gruff voice demanded.

Strangling a yelp, Ori jumped up from his chair and was about to smooth out the front of his robe when he remembered he still had the sketches in his hands. Shoving the sketches into the inside pocket of his robe, Ori headed for the front door, and then stopped himself.

No, he thought to himself. He had a soulmate now. A dwarf, judging by the look of him, who could dispatch any member of the city watch with a glare and a swing of his axe. He wouldn't bow and scrape to them at all. He'd hold his head high, and demand to know what they wanted.

Ori had to be the kind of dwarf his soulmate could be proud of. Or else, what was the point?

Squaring his shoulders, he set his jaw and opened the door. "How can we help the city watch today?" he asked. He had to tamp down the pride he felt because his voice hadn't shaken at _all_.

Sure enough, the dwarf with the full, black beard stood at the door, though surprisingly enough, he was alone. "I've come for Nori," he declared. "Where is he?"

Ori had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Again? He left here four days ago. And no, he didn't tell us where he was going or who he was going to see. But, if you want to look around because you can't trust the word of an Erebor refugee, please, go right ahead." With that, Ori opened the door wider, using a grand gesture to show the dwarf inside that he remembered Dori used for particularly snotty customers.

The dwarf paused for a moment before coming inside. Ori could see by the way the helm moved that the dwarf wasn't taking his eyes off him, and that suited Ori just fine. If he could show a guard of the city watch he wasn't afraid, then he might do all right whenever he met the dwarf in his sketches.

Ori stood back, folding his arms over his chest and made no move to stop the dwarf from wandering around his home.

When the dwarf had finished his circuit of the small home, he came to stop at Ori's writing desk a few feet away from the front door. Resting one of his hands on the solid wood, to the right of the sheaf of papers Ori had left there earlier, the dwarf grunted.

"Would you like a cup of tea, perhaps?" Ori asked, aiming for the kind of sharp calm that Dori taught him to use for when he was feeling scared. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't feeling scared, but whether it was because of his tone of voice, or the thought of his soulmate ever hearing about this story from anyone else, he wasn't sure.

The dwarf grunted. "No," he said slowly. "Thank you." He didn't sound like he actually knew what to do with that kind of polite offer. For a moment, Ori felt a bit sorry for him. "If you see him--"

"I'll make sure to let the city watch know," Ori finished. Of course, he had no such intention, but he wasn't about to tell this dwarf that.

Despite the fact that he couldn't see the dwarf's eyes, Ori felt as though he could feel them staring straight into him. His dark beard twitched in something that could've been mistaken as a smile from a particularly nasty predator.

"Your brother is about to cross the wrong people," the dwarf growled after a noticeable silence. "If you want him alive, you'd better find him before anyone else does, or else I'll be returning a corpse the next time I show up here."

Ori frowned, his heart hammering in his ears. "I see." He drew himself up again and gestured towards the open front door. "Have a good day, sir."

The dwarf stared at him again -- he was probably glaring at him under that helm, for all Ori knew -- and then walked out without another word.

Ori watched him leave for a moment before closing the door and locking it carefully. Pulling the sketches out from his shirt, he sighed down at the top sketch, a bit annoyed at himself for the large crease that ran through the dwarf's face.

"Why do I have a feeling that I'm going to tell you this story, and you're going to laugh?" Ori asked the picture, heaving a sigh.

The picture, of course, didn't answer.


	5. Voices Through the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori should be sleeping, but a pain in his back and voices through the door keep him up.

"No," Dori said with a scowl.

Ori frowned back at him. He should've waited until Dori had had a chance to set his bag down and relax after coming home from the tailor shop, but he remembered what the city guard had said. "But, Nori could be in serious danger."

"Has it ever occurred to you that the city watch might _want_ you to go out looking for him, just to make their jobs easier?" Dori pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You'd be giving him up to the watch, and if he can't trust family, what else would he have left?"

Ori blinked. "What?"

Dori sighed heavily, setting his bag down and heading for the kitchen. "I don't see eye-to-eye with Nori about a lot of things. I think he's a criminal who needs to learn the consequences of his actions, and that he's too willing to give up his principles in order to get things done. A dwarf has to have lines he will not cross, is all."

Ori nodded, watching as his eldest brother got out the tea set and pulled down the small tins where he kept the mint. "But?"

Dori sighed, turning to face Ori directly. "But Nori's our brother, and I still love him. I still want to look out for him, make sure he's doing all right. And turning him over to the city watch isn't going to be the best thing for him right now."

"What happened to letting Nori take the consequences for his actions?" Ori asked with some confusion. "Wouldn't a night in jail do him some good? I thought that's what you said."

Dori looked at him for a long moment. "I know what I said, but Nori's starting to antagonize the wrong dwarves, and if he gets caught, I'm worried about what might happen." He opened up the tin of mint tea and offered Ori a cup with a lift of his eyebrows.

Ori shook his head politely. "Is it the bail money?" he asked softly. "Are you worried about not having enough to spring him? How much is it?"

"More than you could afford," Dori growled, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove as he measured out a careful amount of mint into his teacup. "We need to let him come home on his own time. It's safer for everyone that way."

Ori scowled. "If Nori's in danger--"

"Then he needs to get himself out of it," Dori snapped. "He doesn't need to drag you down with him."

"The guard from the city watch who came by earlier also warned me that Nori was crossing the wrong dwarves," Ori objected. "That he might be killed."

Dori inhaled slowly, his hand stopping in mid-motion to put the tea set back where it belonged. "Mahal's beard, you two are going to be the death of me."

***

Despite Ori's protests, he and his elder brother stayed home that night. And the next night. And the night after. Ori had found himself trying to think of all of the shady parts of the mountain that Dori had expressly forbidden him to go, but before he could figure out some sort of plan to find Nori, Ori suddenly became his brother's new assistant at the tailor shop. Ori wasn't stupid enough to believe it was a coincidence. It didn't help that the only thing Dori trusted him with was seam ripping.

He kept his ears open for any news about Nori, but unfortunately for him (and fortunately for their family), the shop's clientele were from the upper classes, though nowhere near catering to either the family that ruled Ered Luin, or the royal family in exile from Erebor. Day after day, Ori saw all sorts of noble-dwarves coming in -- both natives and refugees, to his surprise -- having shirts and trousers repaired or taken in or let out or anything else that could be done to fabric without having to spend more money than Dori made in a year to buy new clothes.

Most of the talk that Ori _did_ overhear was about how unruly some other family's children were, or having to pay an outrageous fee to get their heir apprenticed to the best Ered Luin had to offer. Dori made sure to offer the refugees discounts (though Ori wasn't sure if that was entirely acceptable, seeing as how the first time he asked about the discounts, Dori had glared at him and told him to keep ripping). The natives were treated fairly too, and given the same quality as the refugees, but even Ori could tell that some of them were looking down their noses at his brother.

After a few days of being dragged away to the tailor shop and coming back to an empty home, Ori found himself nearly about to give up until one evening when he'd been having trouble going to sleep.

Earlier in the day, Ori had stretched a little too far with one arm retrieving a bolt of fabric from a high shelf, and now had a twinge in his back that wouldn't go away, no matter how he lay. Dori had made him some willow bark tea to help ease the pain, but as he lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, he wondered if he was going to be able to go to sleep at all.

He heard the front door open, and then a choked curse. There were sounds of hurried footsteps, and then he heard one of the chairs at the table creak.

Ori got out of bed, and made his way over to the bedroom door with a wince.

"Take off your shirt," Dori ordered. "Let's see."

"Can't," a second voice managed tightly. "I think I've got cracked ribs."

Ori bit his lip. _Nori!_

He wanted to leave his room and hug his brother, but he knew that Dori was just going to order him back to bed. He eased himself to sit down against the door, wincing when he thought he heard it creak. He waited for a breathless moment, his heart thundering in his ears, but when he didn't hear any sounds approaching the door, he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, concentrating on listening.

"Can I get the lecture later?" Nori was pleading, sounding tired.

"Oh, no, you don't," Dori replied sharply. "Not only did I get a pleasant little visit about a week ago from two guards from the city watch -- by the by, you're coming dangerously close to being made an example of by Kollr Longshanks, according to them -- but guess who decided to pay Ori a visit while I wasn't home?"

"Is he all right?" Nori's voice was tight.

"Oh, he's perfectly fine," Dori said sarcastically. "Luckily, the city guard who spoke to him seemed to be one of the few who _isn't_ working for Captain Solvi, given that Ori's arms and legs are still intact."

"He might've been under orders not to, this time around," Nori said, sounding like he was talking more to himself than to Dori. "Give the kid a scare, make him rabbit. It's good bait, if they think I love him enough to come out of hiding."

The dwarves who had come for Nori the first time had threatened to throw him in the dungeons, but Ori found himself wondering what would've happened if he'd resisted. The dwarf with the full, black beard had stood up for him the first time they'd come -- in fact, he had been the dwarf to bring Nori home, and then he'd come alone the second time -- but he still looked like he could break Ori's arms and legs without trouble.

Ori swallowed. Dori had said that the city watch were always to be obeyed, but if he knew about this Captain Solvi...

"Well, it looks like they did a good job of scaring him," Dori sounded like he was ready to murder someone. "He's been trying to figure out how to slip out of the house ever since that little visit."

"He's not in any danger here," Nori said, absolutely mystified. "Why would he want to?"

"Because he cares whether you live or die, you dolt!" Dori shouted. There was a hard thump that sounded like Dori smacking the table with a fist.

Ori jumped where he sat, wincing at the renewed pain shooting through his back.

There was a long silence before Nori asked, "Did he tell you who it was who talked to him?"

"No, because he's not on a first-name basis with each of the city watch guards. And no, he didn't tell me what he looked like, either. How's he supposed to know which ones he can trust -- if he can even trust _any_ of them?"

Nori sighed heavily. "Dori, I'm s--"

"Stop," Dori snapped. "Just, stop. I don't want to hear it."

"Dori--"

"Nori, this is too much!"

Ori was surprised to hear Dori's voice choked with tears.

"How long are you going to be able to keep running before they catch you? One wrong move, and you're dead! You may not give a damn about me, but what about Ori? He's not trying to be just like you, thank Mahal, but he _loves_ you."

Ori closed his stinging eyes, trying to breathe slowly and stay quiet.

"Do you remember when he was smaller, and you started haring off, getting into trouble? Do you remember how he would plead with you not to go?" Dori asked, his voice tight. He was getting to the point where he was so angry that he was crying and yelling at the same time. " _He still does it_."

Ori's face burned. He'd tried to keep Dori from seeing how much it hurt whenever he discovered Nori had disappeared in the middle of the night, but Dori was his older brother. Of course he knew.

"What do you want me to do?" Nori finally snapped. "It's a no-win situation, Dori! If I rabbit, I'm hurting him. If I stay to look out for you two, I'm painting targets on your backs."

"Get out," Dori said in a low, dangerous voice.

Ori's eyes sprang open, staring blankly into the darkness of the room he shared with Dori.

"Get out of Ered Luin," Dori continued. "Get out of here. Make a new life for yourself somewhere, anywhere. Just... make sure you don't die."

There was a long silence.

"...right."

Nori's voice was soft. Ori had never heard him sound so defeated before.

The chair creaked, and there were footsteps heading towards the front door.

Ori gritted his teeth, getting up to his feet while his back twinged.

"Nori."

Ori heard the front door open.

"Aren't you going to say good-bye to Ori?"

Ori turned to face the door, ready to turn the knob.

"Let 'im sleep," Nori said gently. "That way, if the city watch comes around again, he can say he never saw me, and he wouldn't be lying."

Ori's eyes burned. He was terrible at lying. Dori and Nori knew it. He wanted to rip the door off its hinges and hug his brother and beg him not to leave, but he knew that if he did, he'd just be making things harder for his brothers, and he wouldn't be able to look any of the city watch in the eye without looking like he was guilty of something.

"Write when you get settled?" Dori asked.

"And give the Kollr a reason to go after you because he'll have confirmation that I'm not in Ered Luin anymore?" Nori asked.

"You _do_ remember the time when I sent two of his enforcers back with broken arms, don't you?"

"Funny, Ori doesn't seem capable of breaking skulls. Unless there's something you're not telling me."

"Nori, son of Haldi, you're a horrible little brother," Dori murmured.

"I love you, too, brother mine," Nori said with a smile in his voice. "Don't wait up for me."

"I won't."

The front door closed.

Ori opened the bedroom door to see Dori staring at the door with tears running down his cheeks.


	6. What a Difference a Day Makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Nori leaves is one that Ori's not exactly expecting.

It felt almost wrong that the next morning had felt like any other morning. Ori and Dori had gone about their morning routine like they usually did, drinking hot tea and getting ready for the day.

Only the house was too quiet, the walls too stark.

Intellectually, Ori knew that the house itself hadn't changed, but when he looked at the dining table, he kept imagining Nori there without a shirt on, with Dori changing bandages. He wondered if he was imagining a spot of blood that he saw on the grain of the table or not.

Dori was quieter too, not ordering Ori to put on a clean shirt because they were heading for the tailor shop together again. He wasn't even grumbling through his tea like he usually did, because when Dori first woke up in the morning, he tended to be shorter tempered than he was when he was fully awake.

"Try to have a good day at the shop," Ori said, wanting to break the choking silence, but also to let his brother know he was staying home without saying it.

Dori's gaze sharpened on him, and he shook his head. "You'll be there to see it yourself, seeing as how you're coming with me." He glanced at Ori's clothes. "You might want to change your shirt."

Ori frowned. "Nori's already gone--"

"And if you think that means we're out of danger, perhaps you'd best think again," Dori muttered. "Nori crossed some very--"

"Dangerous dwarves," Ori snapped, getting impatient. "Yes, I remember."

Dori's scowl darkened. "Don't take that tone with me, and don't interrupt. With any luck, Nori will be well out of Ered Luin by now, but we still live here, and we're his brothers."

Ori frowned back. "If we're in such danger, why haven't we had trouble before? Was it because you broke some arms?"

Dori groaned, wiping his face with one hand. "If you're going to eavesdrop, you need to learn to not talk about it. I was going to pretend that you hadn't heard any of it last night, but you're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

"Dori, Nori's _gone_." Ori tried to stop his voice from shaking, but it was more difficult than he'd expected. "We may never _see_ him again. I think it's safe to say that I wouldn't be able to find him if I tried, so there's no point in keeping me at your side, day and night."

"You've already been visited by the city watch twice when I wasn't home," Dori said tightly. "I really don't want to come home to see you hurt."

Ori set his jaw, inhaling slowly and trying not to imagine what kind of scene Dori might come home to. Considering that he'd be the one on the floor, broken and bleeding, he was having a bit of trouble. "I can stay at the library. Work on some projects there. They can't beat me up there, not without the librarians getting involved."

Dori frowned. "I hardly think that some librarians are going to keep you from getting hurt."

Ori smiled. "You haven't met the librarians."

***

As Ori walked through the entryway and approached the front desk, he could see Hamal speaking with an older dwarf, his hair and long beard a brilliant white, his clothes finer than most he'd seen around the library. Ori was going to nod politely and continue on, since he didn't want to interrupt their conversation, but as soon as Hamal caught sight of him, the librarian waved him over.

"Ori!" Hamal beamed. "There you are, lad! I thought I was going to have to wait until you picked up another transcription project."

"Hello, Master Hamal," Ori said. He turned to the other dwarf and bowed politely. "Ori, at your service, sir."

The dwarf smiled, making Ori think of an approving father or uncle. "Balin, at yours and your family's," he replied, bowing as well.

Ori was about to make his apologies when Hamal cut in.

"You still looking to sign on as an apprentice scribe, lad?"

Ori blinked. "Well, yes, but I thought you said that none of the masters were accepting anymore students."

Balin frowned, resting a hand on the top of the desk as he watched the younger dwarf. "Have you tried applying to the guild?"

Ori blushed, his skin nearly matching his ginger hair. "Even if I had enough for the guild dues, there's the problem of my being an Erebor refugee."

Balin shook his head, tsking to Hamal. "Ered Luin's going to lose perfectly good talent because of this irrational fear that we're going to take all the jobs away from their people." He turned back to Ori. "Here, how about I take you on as an apprentice?"

Ori blinked, not sure he could believe his ears. "I'm sorry?"

Hamal, who'd been watching the exchange with ill-concealed amusement, barked out a laugh that had several patrons glaring at him with silent disapproval. "Ori, you dolt, do you even know who this is?"

Ori shot the librarian a blank look. "I guess not...?" he offered tentatively.

Hamal traded an amused look with Balin that clearly commented on the state of dwarflings' knowledge these days. "You didn't give him a full introduction."

"I know," Balin said with a smile. "I find that it cuts down on questions."

Hamal snorted. "Shall I, then?"

"Oh, please," Balin said, looking delighted. "I'm curious as to what you'll say."

"Excuse me," Ori said apologetically, "but what are you referring to?"

Hamal smirked. "Balin here is actually Balin, son of Fundin. Cousin and advisor to Thorin Oakenshield since the days of Erebor." He paused for a moment and turned back to Balin. "He _is_ your cousin, isn't he?"

"I think he's more like a third cousin, but it doesn't really matter," Balin said with surety. "He's kin, and he's my king."

The two older dwarves turned back to Ori, only to find him with his jaw hanging open and his brown eyes wide.

"It's been a while since a dwarfling recognized my name," Balin said with a smile.

"You'll catch fumes if you leave your mouth open for too long, lad." Hamal chuckled.

Ori closed his mouth quickly. "I--" He stopped, his brain engaging after the shock wore off. "You're offering me an apprenticeship?"

Balin grinned, stroking his long, forked beard. "I am."

"Then I accept," Ori said quickly before Balin could change his mind.

"Hold on, lad," Hamal interrupted with a chiding look. "You're not of age yet." He gave Balin an apologetic look. "You'll need to talk to his eldest brother, Dori."

"Dori's not going to stop me from accepting," Ori protested. "He knows that I've been wanting to be a scribe for years!"

"Aye, but we still have to take care of the formalities," Balin said gently. "Is there a convenient time when I can talk to him?"

"This evening," Ori said. "He gets home just after the seventh hour."

Balin nodded. "Very well, then. I'll arrive at your residence at the top of the eighth hour." He smiled. "It wouldn't do to spring this on him the moment he walks in the door, after all. You live in the main sector for the refugees?"

Ori nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

Balin nodded again. "I shouldn't have trouble finding you, then. I'll see you this evening at the eighth hour." He reached out a hand.

"The eighth hour," Ori agreed, accepting the handshake firmly. He was having trouble keeping the grin off his face, and after a moment, he realized he didn't want to fight it. "Thank you, sir."

***

As soon as Dori got in from work, Ori was out of his seat at his writing desk, taking Dori's bag, and offering him a freshly-brewed cup of tea.

Dori frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

Ori blinked. "What do you mean, what's wrong?"

"I haven't seen this kind of courtesy since you broke Mother's last vase when you were a dwarfling," Dori answered, suspicious.

Ori shook his head quickly. "Nothing's wrong, I promise."

Dori stared at him for a long moment before he frowned again. "So, what is it?"

"Balin, son of Fundin, just offered me an apprenticeship to become a scribe."

Ori had meant to act like an adult about it and wait until after Dori had settled down to dinner, but the excitement had gotten to be too much for him to contain.

Dori's eyes widened, nearly dropping the cup of tea. "What?"

"Master Balin was at the library when I went earlier today," Ori said, the words tumbling out of his mouth into a graceless heap. "And when he found out that I couldn't get an apprenticeship through the guild because we're from Erebor, he offered me an apprenticeship on the spot."

Dori blinked. "But you're underage."

"He's coming to talk to you at the top of the eighth hour," Ori said in a rush. "I think I'm going to be sick."

***

It took fifteen minutes for Ori to become an apprentice scribe, though it took an additional forty-five (and a fine red wine that Ori knew Dori had been saving for two years) for Balin and Dori to trade stories about their respective families like two fathers commiserating about the joys of raising younger siblings. While Nori had been the black sheep of the family, and Ori the quiet one, Balin's younger brother Dwalin had been wild in his youth, and hadn't shown signs of slowing down anytime soon. Every once in a while, Ori could feel Balin's gaze on him as he packed a few of his books that he couldn't bear to leave behind, but he ignored them.

It wasn't until he and Balin were standing at the front door to his home -- his former home, Ori thought with a sinking feeling -- that it finally hit him. He was an apprentice scribe now. After twenty years of copying books and illuminating texts and transcribing tomes, Ori was finally going to be learning all of the tricks of the trade he hadn't been able to figure out. In ten or fifteen years' time, he was going to be a _scribe_.

"I don't think I need to tell you how much my little brother means to me, Master Balin," Dori was saying as Ori had his sudden realization. "Please, take care of him."

Balin's smile, which had only rarely drifted off his face during the entire visit, slipped gently away, leaving behind a solemn determination. "I will, Master Dori. Of that, you have my word." He offered his hand, which Dori accepted in a firm grip.

"Thank you, sir," Dori said simply before letting go and turning to face his younger brother. "And you."

Ori drew himself up, hoping that Dori wouldn't mother him as he was leaving.

Dori cleared his throat, adjusting the scarf that Ori had put on while he had been packing. "I know you're not going into a rough trade or anything, but try to be safe, all right?"

Ori found himself blushing and looking away. "I'm not a dwarfling anymore -- I'm fifty-seven."

Dori smiled. "I know. I'll still worry anyway."

Ori cleared his throat and nodded quickly. "I'll be careful."

"Maybe when you get a day to yourself or something," Dori said slowly, "you can pop by for a visit, yeah?"

Ori nodded, feeling his throat clench. He could hear the hope in Dori's voice, and part of him felt overwhelming relief that he was leaving home, but he was still welcome. It was a stupid worry, especially since he hadn't left like Nori had, but it felt good to know, all the same. "Yeah."

Dori nodded back, letting go of Ori's scarf to rest his hands on his little brother's shoulders. "I love you."

Ori's blush got hotter. "I love you, too," he mumbled.

They shared a brief, if slightly awkward hug, and then pulled back, Dori patting Ori's shoulder a few times and then letting go entirely. "I'll make sure to let Nori know, if I see him," Dori said.

Ori had a feeling that neither of them would, but it seemed like today was a day where Dori said the things that he needed to hear. "Good." Ori nodded.

"Lad?" Balin said gently. "Are you ready to go?"

Ori glanced at Balin, and then nodded. "Yeah." He looked back at Dori. "Take care of yourself, all right?"

"Don't you go worrying about me," Dori said gruffly. "I've been taking care of myself longer than you've been alive."

Ori grinned. "I know. I'll still worry anyway." He reached out a hand, patted his older brother on the shoulder once, and walked through the front door, heading away from his home, and on to his new life, Balin a steady presence at his side.

"You going to be all right, laddie?" Balin asked a moment or so later.

Ori nodded, his grin having faded to a small, wondrous smile. "Yeah. I think I will."


	7. New Places, New Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to start his apprenticeship, Ori has to get there first.
> 
> It would help if he knew _how_ , though.

Ori knew that things were going to be drastically different when he became Balin's apprentice.

He just wasn't expecting for one of those things to be suddenly losing his sense of direction.

He'd known since he was small that he and his brothers hailed from Erebor. The residents of Ered Luin had never really let any of the Erebor refugees forget it, even though the refugees had lived there for decades.

Ori had spent the past few decades living in Ered Luin, and he had never, in his life, visited the Line of Durin. He'd heard that Thorin Oakenshield had taken jobs like any other dwarf, working in a forge or protecting a traveling caravan from the Blue Mountains to other parts of Eriador, but even in exile, the title of King Under the Mountain demanded respect -- if not from the residents of Ered Luin, then from the Erebor refugees themselves.

The halls where the Line of Durin resided were nearly as grand as those enjoyed by the ruler of Ered Luin, which meant that, of course, Ori got lost on his first day. He'd been following Balin, gotten distracted by a tapestry detailing a battle from earlier in the Third Age, and when he looked around, his master had disappeared.

Ori tried to find his way around again, but after seeing what looked like the same tapestry for the third time in a row, he sighed heavily and admitted that he'd need to find someone and ask for directions to Balin's work area.

As he sat down in a chair just across from the tapestry, Ori stared up at it and found himself missing Dori desperately. Dori wouldn't have gotten himself lost in halls as magnificent as these, but Ori felt like his older brother wouldn't be feeling quite so overwhelmed by what had happened in the past few hours. Dori would've smiled when he'd gotten the apprenticeship offer, and not been surprised at all to be acknowledged by a dwarf who was a cousin to Thorin Oakenshield himself. Dori would've nodded in that regal sort of way that he does when a noble treats him with respect, and accepted the offer confidently, not blurting out an answer like an impatient dwarfling. Ori was fifty-seven, like he'd told his eldest brother when he left, but it felt like he was a little dwarfling again who wanted to climb into Dori's lap and be wrapped up in his brother's arms, with the scent of Dori's soap filling his nose and lulling him to sleep. 

Ori shook his head sharply. This was an amazing opportunity, and he had to remember that. The dwarf in his soulspoken sketches might've been embarrassed by a self-taught adolescent who couldn't quite get the hang of some of the Cirth calligraphy, but he'd have more respect for a scribe who got himself apprenticed by a dwarf who was kin to the Line of Durin. And one day, if Ori ever met him, he could show him all of the tomes he'd copied -- and maybe even a few he'd _written_ \-- and then he could feel like he deserved to have a dwarf that strong and handsome.

Just as he was getting distracted by the thought of the strong and handsome dwarf watching him, it was then that two dwarves (one fair-haired and a few years older than Ori, the other darker-haired and younger), walked down the corridor, both of them wearing supple leathers and jostling each other while they laughed. When they caught sight of him, they traded a look and continued walking forward, closing the distance between them.

"Excuse me," Ori asked politely, standing up from the chair and brushing imaginary lint off his trousers, "but would you mind pointing me towards Master Balin's workshop, please?"

The fair-haired dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Are you his new apprentice?"

"I didn't know he took on a new apprentice," the dark-haired dwarf said, frowning at Ori.

"Actually, he took me on a few hours ago," Ori admitted. "I was following him to his workshop so that I would know where to go in the morning, but I got lost. There's a lot of corridors around here."

"You get used to them after a while," the dark-haired dwarf said with a shrug. "It's easy to get to Balin's rooms, though."

The fair-haired one nodded. "All you have to do is take this corridor here--" He pointed to Ori's left. "Pass three doors on your left, take the first right. Walk until you reach the second four-way intersection, and take the left. You'll pass two doors on your left, and then it won't be the third door on the left, but the one just across from it."

"Can't miss it," the dark-haired one agreed. "See you around!"

And just as quickly as they'd appeared, the two dwarves disappeared down another corridor, leaving Ori nodding and smiling after them until he realized he had no idea which corridor he was supposed to walk down first.

Three hours later, Balin arrived out of nowhere, took pity on his new apprentice, and advised using yarn in order to remember how to get anywhere while he took Ori to his room. Ori wasn't entirely sure if Balin was being serious about that, but he was too tired to argue.

When he was shown to his bedchamber, Ori didn't bother looking at any of the furnishings or even lighting a candle. He found the bed, and flopped down onto it. He was out like a light in moments, his mind blissfully blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, this chapter. It does the job that I wanted it to, but it might undergo some more editing? At least the boys were pleasant enough to our dwarf Ori.


	8. If You Get My Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week, and Ori's under orders.

After he woke up from a dead sleep, Ori's apprenticeship truly began. Balin had already seen some of his work -- he and Hamal had been talking for an hour or two before Ori had shown up at the library, with Hamal showing off Ori's work like a proud father. Now, Balin wanted to see it for himself.

At first, Ori had been embarrassed, because while he had done the copying work for the library, he'd always been able to do it alone. It had been his own special project, something that was solely his own. Having a master watching him -- from across the room at his own desk, or even wandering by to look over his shoulder -- felt like he had been ordered to stand naked in the middle of the market.

After a week of working with Balin, Ori still felt self-conscious, no matter how much he told himself he was being stupid. Each time Balin would point a finger at one of his mistakes, it felt almost shameful. After three mistakes, the entire page had to be done over again, because that was the professional standard, and wasn't _that_ embarrassing to learn. Ori remembered all of the times he'd made mistakes in the tomes he'd copied for the library, and how he'd accepted the full payment for them. Now, sick to his stomach, he found himself wanting to go back to Hamal to return all of the gold he'd ever made.

What was especially silly was when he would get mad at himself for feeling so embarrassed and nervous. He was nearly an adult. He _knew_ that he had a lot to learn about being a scribe. Just because he liked copying things and trying his hand at illustrations didn't mean that he was a master. But there were times when he felt like a dwarfling all over again because it seemed like everything that he had figured out ever since he'd "borrowed" Dori's quills and scribbled all over the walls of their home was completely wrong. He should have been apprenticed sooner, he should have figured out how to earn the money so that he could've had a better shot of getting into the guild sooner, he should have--

There was a hand on his shoulder, which caused Ori to jump in his chair. He turned to see Balin frowning at him, looking concerned.

"Are you all right, lad?"

Ori bit his lip, and then turned back to the page he'd apparently been staring at. Which was absolutely blank.

"Yes, Master," he said, trying not to mumble. He wasn't sure if he succeeded. "I didn't mean to get distracted--"

Balin squeezed his shoulder, drawing Ori's attention back to him. "Maybe you should take a break."

Ori felt his cheeks burn, embarrassment rising up again. "I'm all right, I promise." He started to turn back to the blank page on his desk.

"Don't make me make it an order," Balin said firmly.

Ori froze in mid-motion, and then his shoulders sagged as he sighed. _Wonderful,_ he thought sourly. _Not only am I horrible at being a scribe in the first place, but now I'm being disobedient._ "Yes, Master," he murmured apologetically, not looking at him as he got up from his chair.

He felt Balin watch him for a long minute before he said, "There's a pub not too far from here. I'll send you along with some coin, and when you're finished, bring me back something."

Ori nodded, the knot of tension in his gut starting to unclench by degrees. "Yes, Master."

***

The Miner's Drift was a little further than Ori had expected, but that might have been because Ori had gotten a corridor mixed up along the way. The crowd was boisterous, drinking contests and friendly wagers going on at different tables dotted around the main room. Dwarves were bellied up to the bar, downing tankards of ale. Despite how loud it was, Ori felt like he'd come home after a long day at the library or helping Dori at the tailor's shop. There weren't any empty seats at the bar, or any empty tables, but he didn't feel like he was an outsider intruding on the fun. Making his way to the bar, he ordered a tankard of ale and looked around, soaking in the atmosphere.

At one of the tables, there were two vaguely familiar faces, the slightly shorter, dark-haired of the two waving energetically at him. The other, a little taller with fair hair, nodded once to him when their gazes met.

Ori debated for a minute, wondering if he should join them or look for an empty seat elsewhere. It looked like there was a table starting to clear up, so he didn't need to join them if he didn't want to. But they seemed pleased to see him, or at least were inclined to be friendly.

When the shorter of the two stood and headed for the bar, Ori suddenly realized why the two seemed so familiar: they'd been the pair to give him directions the first night he'd arrived to begin his apprenticeship. And now that it was a week later and he wasn't quite so tired, he also realized that the two dwarves were likely to be kin to Thorin Oakenshield, or at least trusted family servants. Was there some kind of etiquette he was supposed to remember when talking to them? The few times he'd seen them around the halls of his master's home, they'd seemed friendly enough.

Ori was tempted to leave them be, not wanting to intrude, but then he realized how silly he was being. He hadn't made any new friends since he'd begun his apprenticeship, and if he was going to survive the workload (and the feeling he might not ever become a journeyman), he was going to need a friend or two to drink ale with. If they didn't want to talk to him, then he'd apologize for taking up their time and find an empty seat elsewhere.

He found himself weaving through the tables before he could think any further on the subject, apologizing and excusing himself when he bumped a chair. His shoulders straightened as he reached the table, unconsciously bracing himself. "Good evening!" he said, raising his voice so he could be heard over the crowd.

The fair-haired dwarf sitting at the table turned to him, half-frowning before he recognized Ori. "Balin's new apprentice?"

"Yes, that's me," Ori said nervously. "Ori, at your service." He bowed politely.

"Oh! So he showed up after all!" A new voice said cheerfully at Ori's left elbow. When Ori turned, he saw it was the younger dwarf who'd spoken. "I was wondering if you were going to join us!"

Ori blushed and nodded. "Yes, I did," he said. "I didn't want to intrude--"

"No, no, it's no intrusion," the younger said, setting a tankard down in front of the fair-haired dwarf before seating himself next to him. "We usually come here to have an ale or two. We haven't seen you around before."

The fair-haired dwarf elbowed his brother. "This is Ori."

The dark-haired dwarf blinked. "Oh, we didn't introduce ourselves, did we?"

"Fili," the fair-haired dwarf said without preamble.

"And Kili," the other chimed in.

"At your service," they chorused together, bowing their heads since they were both seated.

Ori took a second, trying to remember if he should recognize those names. Unfortunately, he didn't, but it felt like he should know them. Ducking his head in return, he found himself floundering for a topic now that the introductions were out of the way.

"Long day at training?" he offered. Since they were about his age, he figured it was a safe question to ask.

Kili nodded, downing some of his ale as Fili spoke up. "Oh, yeah, same old grind. Our weapons master's working us hard, but that's pretty normal."

Ori nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, surprised that he was starting to feel better already. It felt nice to be around dwarves who understood, at least a little bit. "Yeah."

"Who's your master?" Kili set down his ale to aim a curious look at Ori.

Fili rolled his eyes, reaching out a hand and shoving at his brother's shoulder. "Balin, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right!" Kili's face lit up with a grin and a few bobbing nods. "We showed you how to get through the corridors last week."

"Thanks for that," Ori said, only a little sour. "I still couldn't find Master Balin's workshop."

"Takes a while to get used to the place," Fili admitted. "But after a few weeks or so, it's like the back of your hand."

"Say," Kili said, throwing a companionable arm around Ori's shoulders. "We don't really know Balin all that well. He's some kind of cousin of ours, but we're not really sure of the relation."

"He's kin," Fili told him firmly. "That's all we need to know."

"Kin?" Ori asked, more to confirm his earlier suspicions and make conversation. "So, you're kin to Thorin Oakenshield?" 

"That's right." Fili nodded. "We're his sister-sons."

Sister-sons to Thorin Oakenshield? Ori's brain started working, latching onto the idea and turning it over in his mind. If they were sister-sons, and since Thorin had no children himself (at least, none that Ori was aware of), it meant that Fili, if he was indeed the elder of the two, was the heir to the Kingdom of Erebor.

Ori suddenly found himself wishing that Dori had actually taught him royal etiquette.

"Oh, now you've gone and scared him," Kili complained, shoving at his brother. "I told you he was nervous." He turned to Ori, brown eyes earnest. "You don't have to worry about anything. We're not going to tell Uncle Thorin on you."

Ori managed a wavering smile. "Thanks?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "If we cared that much about acting like we're better than any other dwarf in the Blue Mountains, do you think we'd be here?" He waved his mug around at the pub they were sitting in.

Ori blinked, common sense deflating his nervousness. "Good point."

Kili nodded approvingly at this before taking a quick swig of his drink and then setting it down on the table. "See?" Kili said with a grin, turning back to Ori. "Now, tell us about Balin. What's the old dwarf like? Is he a hard taskmaster?"

Ori shook his head, partly at himself for getting so nervous over these two, and partly to answer the question. They really were like any other dwarf he'd met his age, and if their clothes were as good a quality as the stuff worn by the noble-dwarves that frequented Dori's tailor shop, nobody in the crowd gave them a second glance.

"I wouldn't say that," he answered slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. "He's..." He hesitated for a moment before he mentally shrugged and figured thinking out loud couldn't hurt. He wasn't entirely sure why he was having to copy multiple pages over and over again right in front of Master Balin, but he only had the one theory about it, so he figured if anyone had any better ideas, it might've been these two. "He's trying to see what I can do. He needs to get to know me, and see my work--"

Fili rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward, his blue gaze steady on Ori. "If he's your master, he's already seen what you can do. It's why he took you on in the first place. Now, he's checking to see how you perform under pressure."

"Really?" Ori blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way before.

"It's pretty common when you're apprenticing," Fili said with a shrug. "They have to see if you're worth a damn before they start really teaching you."

Ori felt something hard sink to the pit of his stomach. "But if he's already taken me on, why would he need to test me again?"

"Dunno," Fili shrugged again. "You're not training with weapons, so it's not that he's checking your reflexes. Maybe he's checking to make sure that you weren't passing someone else's work off as yours?"

"If you can do whatever it is you do," Kili added, sounding like he was repeating someone else's words, "you should be able to do it anytime, any place."

Ori nodded slowly. If he hadn't been able to copy tomes more than once, he wouldn't have been able to get the transcription work from the library like he'd had for the past few years. Of course, the knowledge didn't stop his gut from twisting. He was already aware of how little he knew--

"How long do they usually give you before they think you're not good enough?" Ori asked, trying not to sound like his future was precarious because of how many times he'd fouled up in the past week.

"Some masters are good at being able to tell that sort of thing straight away," Fili said after a long pull at his tankard. "Though there's times when I think that some of our masters are deciding whether or not to keep teaching us."

"Masters?" Ori's brain latched onto the plural. "You have more than one?"

Kili nodded. "We've got a few for weapons training, and then there's the tutors."

The discussion continued on from there, the boys complaining about tutors and dwarven history that "nobody ever remembered, except maybe scholars". Ori countered with how he hadn't been trained except for the basics of wielding an axe, and he wasn't going to need more than that because there hadn't been an orcish invasion of the Blue Mountains for an Age, and the brothers would know that if they paid more attention to their tutors.

In between one of the brothers going back for refills on the tankards, and arguments about which dwarf had it tougher, and which teacher was the worst, it was close to midnight by the time Ori thought to check the time. When he did, the brothers laughed at how wide his eyes had shot open, and waved him off when he ran for the counter in a panic and ordered something for Balin -- he was too frazzled to even remember what kind of food Balin had wanted him to pick up -- and ran out the door when he got a bag from one of the bartenders.

By the time he made it back to Balin's workshop, he found it empty, with a small note left on his desk, next to a fresh stack of parchment.

_Give the food to one of the servants when you get in, and get some rest. We'll start fresh in the morning._

With a low groan, Ori sat down heavily in his chair, covering his face with both hands.


	9. Going Downhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that thrice-damned page.

"Copy this over, will you, lad?" Balin's finger tapped the yellowed page he'd placed on Ori's desk.

Ori stared at it. It was a crisp piece of parchment with clean lettering, all of the words short and easy to spell. There was something else that Ori couldn't put his finger on.

Glancing over the page again, Ori spotted it. Then, he looked up at Balin. "There's no double consonants," he said blankly.

Balin smiled. "Then it shouldn't be too difficult then, should it?"

Ori ducked his head, trying not to flush at unspoken dig at his abilities. It was bad enough that he'd returned the night before just after midnight when he was supposed to bring back something for Balin. Now, he was having to copy over something that a dwarfling twenty years his junior could do in his sleep. If this was some kind of punishment for the night before, it was amazingly effective at being a slap in the face.

"You have one hour, starting now."

Ori blinked up at him. "An hour?" he asked blankly. What was the point of a time limit if he could copy it over in half the time, if he hurried? Was he supposed to do something more to the text? Illuminate the runes? Use measured spacing between the words?

Balin nodded.

"And... there's no other instructions?" Ori prompted when his master said nothing further.

"Do you need more instructions?" Balin asked. "I thought they were plain enough." He glanced at the clock on his desk and turned back to Ori with a smile. "Better get to work. Time's wasting."

Ori glanced at the clock, and then hurriedly turned back to the parchment. With the stack of parchment on his desk from the night before, he only needed to grab a fresh quill, dip it into the ink bottle, and set to work.

***

"He's got you copying a page now?" Fili asked, looking confused. "That's easy, isn't it?"

"I want to copy a page every time I come back late from something." Kili protested.

Fili shoved at his brother's shoulder. "You'd never learn if you had to sit down and copy runes all day. Training gets it through your thick skull what you did wrong."

"Hey! Who're you calling a thick skull?!"

Ori thumped his forehead gently on the table, heaving a deep sigh while the brothers shoved at each other and nearly gotten them thrown out. Of course they wouldn't understand how humiliating it was. Fili and Kili would just see it as a chance to goof off and have a rest from a hard day of weapons training.

Why did he think they were going to be sympathetic?

***

"That's nice, lad, but maybe you shouldn't spend so much time illuminating the letters, hmm? Just copy what you see."

***

Ori counted it as a small victory when he finally figured out that there was a training ground close to Balin's workshop that he could cut across from most of the other rooms in the labyrinth that was home to the Line of Durin.

Now, instead of being forty minutes late every time he ran an errand, he was only fifteen.

***

"Did you use exact spacing for the words, lad?"

Ori had a sinking feeling in his gut. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Oh, it's fine, lad, just fine. But you don't have to go through that much effort."

***

Ori opened his eyes and found himself staring at a new sketch of his soulmate.

Heaving a deep sigh, he whispered, "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

The drawing stared back at him as if it could see him, and found him wanting.

"Thanks a lot," he muttered.

***

"There's quite a lot of embellishments along the sides here, but the text isn't finished."

***

"Things can't possibly be that bad, Ori," Fili said, drunkenly slapping his hand down a few times on Ori's shoulder in what Ori guessed was supposed to be sympathy. Seeing as how he'd had his shoulders hunched for the past few days, copying over that damn page, it just hurt.

"Drink up," Fili ordered with a sloppy smile. "It'll be better in the morning."

"Can you guarantee that?" Ori asked, the manners that Dori had drilled into him when he was smaller keeping his voice from turning into a snarl.

"Of course not!" Kili grinned before taking a long pull from his tankard. "But things can't possibly get any worse, right?"

***

"Here's mistake number three. It's got to be done over again." 

***

The newest sketch seemed to be glaring at him.

Ori couldn't meet its gaze for more than a few seconds, his stomach twisting.

 _Maybe I should number these,_ he thought to himself. _Dori said they'd make a nice present for when we met._

He flipped over the parchment, feeling like Mahal had a bit of mercy when his gut stopped churning so horribly. Applying a clean number six to the back, he then added the date on a whim.

Wouldn't do to forget when they happened, did it?

***

"This is fairly rushed, isn't it?"

***

"Ink's smearing."

***

"Not good."

***

"No."

***

The silence was suffocating.

"Maybe," Balin said after a long moment, "a change of pace will do you some good."

Ori's lips were moving, words dropping from his mouth without his even being aware they were doing so. "A change of pace...?"

"Go visit your brother," Balin murmured. "I'm sure he misses you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. Oops.


	10. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ori goes to see Dori.

Ori never thought that he'd see the day when going to the market was nearly... boring.

Balin had "suggested" he go visit Dori, but since he'd gotten his things together and had left his master's home close to lunch time, Ori knew that his brother wasn't going to be home. He still had his key -- he had forgotten to give it back when he'd first accepted his apprenticeship -- but it felt wrong to wait around the house while Dori was at the tailor shop. And so, here he was, wandering the market, and not getting excited like he did when he was a dwarfling.

Because they hadn't had much money when Ori was younger, they hadn't gone to the market together all that often, so each time they had gone, it had been a special occasion.

("I absolutely refuse to let you go wandering off alone! What if you get hurt? Or possibly even _kidnapped?_ No, absolutely not, it's with Nori or not at all, and no complaining!")

Now, Ori had coins jingling in his pocket, ("You should have some spending money, just in case.") but seeing as how the last time he'd been trusted with an errand for Master Balin, he'd ended up staying out past midnight, it was better to hold onto it and return it when he got back to his master.

Ori entertained the idea of dropping by the tailor shop, but he didn't want to interrupt Dori while he was working. Dori had a few colleagues who helped him, but he was also very busy from the time he got to work up to the time he went home.

It didn't make waiting to talk to him any easier.

He should've been better than this -- he felt nearly desperate to see his brother, ready to cry on his shoulder about how terrible a student he was that his master sent him home to "clear his head". He was fifty-seven, after all. He was nearly an adult. He shouldn't _need_ to come running home, crying because he got a skinned knee.

And yet a small part of him just wanted to huddle in a corner and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

As much as he wanted to go home and wait in the dark by himself, the more Ori thought about Dori, the more he needed to see him.

He turned around where he stood, just in time to smack right into the uniform jacket of a guard from the city watch.

"Oh, I'm so sorry--" Ori said quickly, looking up into the guard's eyes instinctively, surprised to find them a piercing blue. "Please excuse me."

A full, black beard framed lips that thinned, and then the dwarf nodded curtly.

It was when the guard made to move past him that Ori realized that he'd met this guard before. He'd been the guard who'd come to his home to look for Nori, and warn him about the kind of trouble his brother was facing.

"Wait--" Ori blurted out, reaching forward. "Sir?"

The guard turned to meet his gaze again.

For a moment, Ori had been about to thank him for the warning, that Nori was out of Ered Luin, and well out of danger now, but then he stopped.

Warning or not, this was a guard of the city watch, whose sworn duty was to find criminals, arrest them, and see that justice was done. Telling a guard outright that a known criminal had slipped through his fingers wasn't exactly a smart move, and so Ori was left with his hand on the dwarf's arm. Realizing what it must look like to the passers-by, he yanked his hand away, and jerked his head in a nod.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Good day."

Blue eyes narrowed at him, and for a moment, Ori wondered again at how a pair of eyes can look so familiar when he didn't remember ever knowing what color the guard's eyes were. But the guard nodded firmly and walked past him, heading in the opposite direction.

As Ori turned to watch him walk away, he suddenly remembered what his brothers had spoken about the night that Nori had left Ered Luin, about how there was no way to tell which guards could be trusted, and how difficult that was becoming nowadays. He found himself heaving a deep sigh of relief that he hadn't said anything as he turned and started heading for Dori's shop. What were those names again? Kollr and Solvi? Something like that. Better to not let either of them know that Nori was well out of their reach now.

It didn't take long to find the tailor shop, and for once, he walked in the front entrance, wondering what Dori would say if it looked like he were a customer rather than a little brother.

He needn't have worried, of course. There were some upper-class clientele in the shop, some dwarrowdams chatting about their heirs' apprenticeships while examining some jackets while one agitated-looking dwarf who Ori thought might be a noble stood at the counter, waiting on someone. One of the apprentices lounging near the door that led to the back caught Ori's eyes and waved a little.

Ori smiled and waved back before stepping away from the other dwarves and made a show of pulling out a piece of paper from his satchel so that the other dwarves wouldn't get nervous about his loitering. Experience had taught him that if he didn't look like he could afford to get his clothes altered at the shop, he needed to look like he was a servant so that the shop didn't lose business because of "riff raff hanging around the place".

Soon, the dwarves were gone, and Ori glanced outside to make sure that a customer wouldn't walk in unexpectedly before he was caught by a sudden idea.

It wasn't often that he tried to play a prank on his older brother, since the last time he tried, it had backfired spectacularly. Still, a small bit of good fun wouldn't hurt, and considering the bad week he'd had, he needed a bit of a smile.

As such, he approached the counter with a smile for the young dwarf standing there attentively, and leaning in conspiratorially. "Do you want to play a trick on Dori?"

The dwarf's eyebrows rose. He didn't look that much older than Ori himself, but that didn't stop a sneaky grin. "Sure."

"Is he in the back?"

The dwarf nodded.

Ori nodded once with a grin before he straightened up and puffed out his chest. "What's the meaning of this?" he snapped, deepening his voice and making sure it was loud enough to be heard in the back. He smacked the counter once, and then winced when his hand started smarting.

Across the counter, the dwarf's face was turning red with the effort to not laugh. "I'm very sorry, sir," his voice shaking with laughter, but managing to sound alarmed. "What seems to be the problem?"

"This seam popped not five minutes after I left this very shop!" Ori shouted, cradling his hand and biting his lip to keep in the giggles. "I want to speak to whoever fixed this at once!"

"Ah, well, do you know the order number, sir?" the dwarf asked. "It's how we're able to tell which tailor did the job, is all."

Ori shot him a look, and the dwarf waved a hand at him to wing it. "I can't be bothered to remember such silly things!" he snapped, trying to find a good place to hold his hand so that it didn't smart so much. At least it wasn't his writing hand. "I demand to speak to the dwarf in charge here, and I demand to see him at once!"

"Hey!" Dori shouted from the back before the door burst open. "What seems to be the trouble--" He stopped, his eyes wide. "Ori!"

Ori's grin was pained. "Hi."

Dori walked around the counter with surprising speed and grabbed his shoulders. "Oh, it's so good to _see_ you!" He grabbed him in a strong bear hug and pulled back to look him over critically. "What's wrong with your hand?"

"Smacked it on the counter just now," Ori said sheepishly.

Dori shook his head and sighed heavily. "I just bought some ice a few days ago. I'll put some on when we get home."

The dwarf at the counter waved at Dori. "You should get home, Dori. We can manage here."

Dori shot him a stern look. "The last time I left you three in charge, we lost two customers."

The dwarf rolled his eyes. "I don't know about you, but losing Lord Havgar could only be an improvement." He made another shooing motion. "Either way, you need to interrogate your little brother about his apprenticeship." He turned to Ori. "He hasn't shut up about it since you left."

Ori blushed, his thoughts taking a turn for the worse as he thought about his apprenticeship, and just how badly he was doing.

On the other hand, Dori was glaring at the dwarf behind the counter. "Never you mind about that--"

"Go home, Dori." The dwarf cut in with a smile. "I promise we won't burn down the store."

"You'd better not!"

***

It took another fifteen minutes to finally convince Dori to take the day off, and within the hour, Ori and his brother were sitting at the dining table, a quick lunch plated up and ready to eat.

"How's the shop doing?" Ori asked, partly out of politeness, but also to try to keep the interrogation off as best he could.

Dori couldn't contain a proud smile. "It's going quite well. Business is picking up with the courting season coming up, and some of the styles that are becoming popular are fairly easy to add to whatever they bring us." He took a few bites of his food before shooting Ori a fond look. "But never mind about me. How's the apprenticeship coming along?"

Ori set his teeth, his gaze dropping to his food. "It's all right."

When he peeked at Dori, he saw the scowl on his brother's face. "What happened?"

It took a great deal of effort to keep from sighing. "Nothing happened."

"Then why the big change?" Dori asked, his confusion breaking through. "Two weeks ago, you were all but bouncing out the door to start your apprenticeship, and here I find you mumbling that 'it's all right'." Dori said this last part with an annoyingly accurate imitation of Ori's despondency. "Something happened, so what is it?"

Ori sighed through his nose slowly. "I don't think I'm any good," he admitted, nearly mumbling.

"You don't think you're any--" Dori stared at him blankly. "Ori, you were better at your runes ten years ago than I was when I was your age now. You have a natural gift for it."

Ori looked down at his plate, moving the cut of meat around mulishly. "You're just saying that because you're my older brother."

"Of course I am," Dori admitted shamelessly. "But I also know that there are heirs to noble houses that don't write as well as you do. You just have to look at all the invoices at the shop to see that."

Ori found himself smiling a little, even as he kept his head down. "Not everyone's inclined to writing."

Dori snorted. "Trying to throw my words back in my face isn't going to get you out of this, Ori," he said, sounding more fond than annoyed. "How about this, then? At fifty-seven, you are so sure of yourself, of your craft, and what you want, that you were able to soulspeak for the first time."

"Anyone can do that," Ori pointed out, looking up from his plate to see Dori watching him steadily.

"Soulspeaking doesn't usually happen until you come of age," Dori said, a smile tugging at his lips. "And it shouldn't happen until you're good enough at a craft to create a clear picture."

"Which just means that I'm an early bloomer, and I'm really good at drawing," Ori only half-grumbled.

Dori wasn't fooled. "Nearly twenty years until you reach the age of majority is a little early, and you've worked just as hard at writing as you have at drawing."

Ori snorted gently through his nose, unable to stop the small smile on his own lips. "You think I could be a master scribe?" he asked softly.

"I know you can," Dori said firmly, with no hesitation, and Ori could feel something uncurl inside of himself. When he was growing up, Nori was the one to tell him to keep an eye out for cutthroats and pickpockets, but Dori was the one who gave him a big hug and told him everything was going to be better.

At the thought of their wayward brother, Ori found himself asking, "Have you heard anything from Nori...?"

The smile slipped off of Dori's face, leaving behind a firm, but unsurprised look. "Not a word. He's a grown dwarf, Ori. He can take care of himself."

"I know." Ori sighed. "I just..."

Dori nodded, setting his fork and knife down and taking a sip of his tea. "I know."

"And you're not lying to me to keep me in the dark and keep me from worrying about him, are you?" Ori asked, his voice gentler than he meant.

Dori paused, his hand in mid-motion to set his teacup down, and then he sighed. "No, I'm not," he said gently. "I promise."

Ori nodded. "And what about you?"

Confusion made Dori frown. "What about me?"

"I seem to remember the names 'Kollr Longshanks' and 'Captain Solvi' the night that Nori left Ered Luin," Ori said bluntly. "And that Nori was worried that if word got out that he wasn't here anymore, that they'd come after us."

"You have nothing to worry about," Dori said in what sounded like a reassuring tone. "If anything, your taking an apprenticeship with one of the members of the Line of Durin -- no matter how distant the relation -- means that they wouldn't dare come after you."

"And yet you're here--" Ori made a show of looking around their home before returning his attention to Dori. "--all by yourself."

Dori rolled his eyes. "I see you forgot the part of that conversation where I reminded Nori that I'm capable of taking care of myself."

Ori scowled at him. "I didn't forget. I'm just worried that if they come after you, they might send more than two dwarves."

"Never you mind about me," Dori snapped, his face reddening in a way that Ori recognized that he was finally losing patience. "I'm older than you, _and_ I changed your nappies. I should be the one doing the worrying around here, not you. Just concentrate on your studies, and trust that I'll be just fine on my own. Got it?"

Ori reflexively shrunk back. "Sorry."

Dori nodded firmly. "Good. That's settled, then."

They ate the rest of the meal in a quelling silence before they got up together and went to the kitchen to wash their dishes and soak the pans Dori had used. They ended up chatting about a few things, Dori catching up Ori on the goings-on around the shop, Ori mentioning making a few new friends, though he didn't elaborate on who they were. Getting a lecture retroactively on how to address royalty wasn't something that Ori was looking forward to, especially since Fili and Kili themselves didn't stand on ceremony.

As it was, the conversation meandered as they sat in the living room and drank chamomile tea until Dori asked, "Have you managed to meet your soulmate at all?"

Ori shook his head, taking a sip of tea. "No. I've been so worried about being good enough at my studies that I haven't really had a chance to look. I mean, when I'm out with my friends, we usually stick to just the one pub, and I've never seen my soulmate in there."

Dori nodded sagely. "It's possible that you two are going to meet at a place that has significance to one or both of you."

Ori blinked, and then shot his brother a skeptical frown. "Old wives' tales?"

Dori scowled back at him. "Say what you like, but there's truth to them." He stopped for a moment, and then his gaze turned contemplative. "Though I do wonder why you started soulspeaking so early. I wasn't kidding when I said you were about twenty years too young for it."

Ori shrugged. "Maybe my soul decided it was time?"

"Or it's possible that you might've met your soulmate already, but you didn't know it just then," Dori said after a long moment.

The two brothers traded a look, and then both of them shook their heads.

"It couldn't possibly be that simple," Dori grumbled.

Ori nodded in agreement.


	11. The Damnable Yellowed Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is hard, Ori. Life is hard.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult to pack his things. And yet, there Ori was, staring at the empty bag that he’d used in order to carry his things laying on the foot of his bed. A jumble of cardigans, trousers, socks, small-clothes, and half-gloves sat next to it, staring at him accusingly.

The trouble was, each time he thought about going back to Balin, he kept remembering what the past week had felt like. All of those times when Balin would make him copy over that page, and it never felt like it was good enough. It felt like, for all of the time he’d spent learning Cirth from Dori, for all the time he’d spent in the library, teaching himself to copy from loose pages he would find, and then copying entire tomes and giving them to Master Hamal, he’d been just wasting his time.

It didn’t help that he was carrying sketches -- _soulspoken craft_ , he corrected himself -- of an older dwarf who was going to find him one day and what was _that_ going to be like, especially if he couldn’t complete his apprenticeship as a scribe? Ori had an uncontrollable urge to shove all of his clothes in the bag, throw the bag under his bed, and hide for the rest of his life.

He didn’t realize that he had a visitor until he saw a pair of hands reach out, pick up one of the cardigans and fold it carefully. Then, just as carefully, the cardigan was placed inside the bag, and Dori was standing next to him, wearing a concerned frown that was all too familiar.

“Ori?”

Ori glanced at him and cleared his throat, picking up one of his pairs of trousers and folding it with less care than Dori would’ve used. “I’m going.” He didn’t mean to sound so petulant, but if there was one thing Ori didn’t want a reminder of at the moment, it was how miserable he’d been a few days before, and Dori’s habit of talking things into the ground wasn’t going to help.

Dori’s frown deepened. “You don’t look like you want to. Are you all right?”

Ori gritted his teeth for a moment. “Yes,” he blurted out. And then, just as quickly, he added, “No. I-- I dunno.”

Dori watched him fumble linguistically for a minute before he offered, “Is it about the apprenticeship?”

Ori took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s stupid,” he said with an explosive sigh. “We just talked about this day before yesterday.”

“And yet,” Dori said gently, “you’re having trouble packing your bag.”

Ori shook his head once, hard. “I should just go--” He grabbed a handful of clothes, ready to shove it in the bag before Dori placed a hand on Ori’s arm.

“Well, if you’re going to go, don’t let me stop you,” Dori said, “but take the time to fold your clothes first.” With that, he gently removed the bundle from Ori’s hand and plucked another cardigan from the pile to fold.

“Yes, father,” Ori grumbled with a small smile.

Dori snorted. “Don’t take that tone with me, young dwarf,” he chided fondly, his hands folding without having to watch what he was doing. “I’m guessing that you still don’t feel like you’re good enough?”

Ori ducked his head, grabbing a sock and trying to find its mate. “I said it was stupid.”

“It’s never stupid to want to measure up,” Dori offered, turning his attention to the cardigan in his hands and frowning at a hole that he found. Poking a finger through it, he set it on the other side of the pile of clothes and picked up another cardigan. “There are dwarves who stake their lives on it.”

Ori set his jaw, scowling at the clothes pile before Dori pointed at a sock. He snatched it up, and rolled the two socks together before tossing the ball into the bag. “It feels like all this time I’ve spent teaching myself has been completely useless,” he growled at a pair of half-gloves that didn’t deserve it. “I’ve been playing at being a scribe, and nobody bothered to tell me that I was going about it all wrong.”

He could almost hear his brother thinking beside him.

“Ori,” Dori said slowly, “I’m sorry.”

Ori blinked, turning to look at his older brother. “What? Why?”

Dori refolded the cardigan in his hands and set it gently on the bed before plucking a pair of half-gloves from the dwindling pile. “When I saw how eager you were at wanting to learn Cirth, I should’ve found a way to get you a tutor, or an apprenticeship, or something--”

Ori felt his stomach twist and take a sharp turn as Dori kept talking. They hadn’t had a lot when Ori was growing up, but the idea that his feeling like a failure at scrivening was somehow Dori’s fault--

He grabbed his older brother’s shoulders and yanked him into a firm hug.

“Dori, stop,” Ori mumbled into Dori’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just being stupid, it’s fine--”

He felt Dori tense up in his arms, and then he was facing down older brother outrage at close range.

“You, mister,” Dori said with a growl, “don’t have permission to speak about my brother that way.”

Ori blinked. “I--”

“If I’m not going to tolerate it from anyone outside the family, you can be sure I’m not going to tolerate it from you,” Dori continued as if Ori hadn’t tried to interrupt. “You can feel stupid as much as you like -- that’s part of growing up -- but calling yourself stupid is unacceptable. Do I make myself clear?”

Ori blinked a few more times before mumbling, “Yes, Dori.”

“Good.” Dori gave him a firm nod. “Now, if it’s not my fault for not having been able to help you when you were younger, then it certainly isn’t your fault for trying to learn any way that you possibly could with the limited means at your disposal.”

Ori felt himself blushing, as much as he tried to stop it.

“And if your master doesn’t approve of how you taught yourself, then he’s going to miss out on the most dedicated student he’s ever had.”

“It’s not that he disapproves of how I taught myself,” Ori interjected, and before he knew it, it felt like a dam had burst inside of him, the words tumbling out. “It’s that nothing I do seems to be good enough. There’s this one page that he keeps having me copy over and over again, and it’s a timed exercise, and each time I give it to him, he always has something negative to say, and he only ever tells me ‘copy what you see’ but when I do that, he finds something wrong with it, and it’s frustrating because it never changes, and he doesn’t tell me how to _fix_ it so that it’s right, and--”

As Ori sucked in a deep breath, Dori reached out and grabbed Ori’s shoulders in a solid grip.

“Ori, I’ll admit that I don’t know anything about scrivening other than how to write Cirth,” Dori said firmly. “But if he wants that page copied over, you give him that page. Give him so many copies of that page that he won’t be able to see over the top of the stack.”

Ori blinked.

Dori grinned. “And if he’s not going to be tell you what’s wrong when you’ve followed his instructions to the letter, then walk.”

Ori’s eyes widened. “Walk...?”

“Walk.” Dori nodded. “If he’s not going to teach you anything, there’s no point in sticking around, is there? An apprenticeship isn’t just about you doing your job -- he’s got to do his job too, and if he doesn’t do it, then he’s not holding up his end of the bargain. And if he’s not holding up his end of the bargain...”

Ori frowned as he finished the sentence. “Find someone else who will?”

Dori nodded firmly. “Exactly.”

***

It was distressingly easy to head back to Master Balin and settle back into the routine that they’d fallen into when Ori had first started his apprenticeship. The tea was set out on the corner of Balin’s desk, his own was cleared and ready for work, and now Ori stood next to his master’s desk, watching Balin leaf through the papers on his desk, quietly hoping that he wouldn’t be stuck copying--

Ori tried not to give his master a rictus of a smile as Balin presented him with that damn, yellowed page again. "One hour?" he asked.

Balin nodded, smiling pleasantly. "Just so."

“And just copy what I see on the page?” Ori asked, glancing down at it before looking at his master again.

Balin’s eyes looked like they were glittering. “Right you are.”

Ori nodded, returning to his desk. Cracking his neck, he turned to Balin.

Balin nodded once, and then overturned the hourglass on his desk.

Ori turned, and set himself down to copying.

Just like the week before, it was happening again. Balin would take the newly-copied page, look it over... and say absolutely nothing. Ori had to stop himself from frowning when he didn't receive any answer for his first page, or the three pages after that.

Ori could feel his heart starting to sink in his chest, but as Balin announced that he was going to bed, and they would start fresh in the morning, he felt determined anger rising up inside of him instead.

When the door clicked shut, he plucked that damn, yellowed page from Balin's desk, along with the hourglass that Balin used to time him.

“You want pages, master?” Ori muttered to himself. “You’ll get enough pages to _choke_ on.” 

Then he sat at his desk, cracked his neck, set the hourglass, and started copying again.

He woke up the next morning, his cheek crushed against wet ink and parchment, and stared at the gently steaming cup sitting near the corner of his desk.

Lifting his head up, Ori hissed and massaged at his neck uselessly before he was able to reach forward and take a sip of the tea that he usually brewed while he worked.

Setting it down, he gingerly massaged at one shoulder, and went back to work. He wasn’t going to the pub to meet up with Fili and Kili until he got this perfect. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Time started moving in fits and starts. He vaguely remembered getting up to make tea, eating something, Balin’s face or sometimes his voice, but his hands were starting to develop a kind of muscle-memory. If it wasn’t how quickly his left hand could turn the hourglass, it was how quickly he was able to write certain words, just because of how many times he’d copied those sentences over. Well, if there was one thing he was getting out of this apprenticeship, Ori thought to himself wryly, he would do amazingly well at taking dictation.

It wasn’t until someone’s hand landed on his shoulder, startling him badly enough to spatter the edge of the page and the corner of his desk with ink, that he sat up from his hunch. Cursing quickly and using his sleeve reflexively to pat down the spots, he turned to find Fili and Kili were staring at him, looking surprised.

Ori blinked. “Uh, hello?” he offered tentatively, trying to inject a tone of _What on Middle-Earth are you doing here?_ into his voice, and not quite sure if he managed it.

“Hello, yourself,” Fili offered, standing up straight and folding his arms over his chest. 

“And here we’d thought you’d found a dwarrowdam to marry without telling us,” Kili added. He motioned at his cheek. “You’ve got a little--”

Ori wiped at his own cheek, and when he felt fresh ink smearing against his face, he scowled at the brothers, who couldn’t stop themselves from chuckling. “Oh, very funny,” he grumbled. “What’re you doing here? I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh, aye, you’ve got work to do,” Kili nodded, looking overly solemn.

“That would be why you’ve been in here for the past three days without a break,” Fili said, looking unimpressed.

Ori blinked. “Three days? It hasn’t been--” He scowled at them again. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d tried to trick him into thinking it was the wrong day.

“You smell like it’s been three days,” Fili said firmly. 

“Please say that you’ve actually gotten out of that chair,” Kili pleaded, clapping both hands to his chest over-dramatically. “Because if you haven’t...” The look on his face said it all.

Ori glared at the princes openly, folding his arms over his chest. He might not have bathed in a while, but he wasn’t _that_ bad. “If Master Balin catches you in here, he’s going to tell your master where you are,” he snapped. “And then you’re going to have to explain why you’re not at weapons practice.”

Fili looked like he’d been hit too hard in the head with a hammer. “Do you even know what time it is?”

“Weapons practice finished hours ago,” Kili added, waving a hand dismissively. “Long enough for us to get a bath and change.”

Ori felt his cheeks get warm. Now that he was paying attention, he could see that Kili’s hair looked damp, and Fili’s mustache braids were freshly done. He opened his mouth again, only for Fili to hold up a hand and shake his head.

“Your master was the one who told us where you were,” Fili said. “And before you ask, he’s the one telling us to kidnap you.”

“If that’s not strange,” Kili said, “I don’t know what is.”

Ori scowled at them. “Master Balin would never have told you to do that. And now, if you’ll _excuse_ me, I wasn’t kidding about having work to do.”

The brothers snorted, and before Ori could react, Kili skipped around him to pluck the yellowed page from his desk, reading it with surprising speed.

“Durin the Deathless?” Kili asked incredulously. “This is what you’ve been working on when you could’ve been drinking with us at the pub?”

Ori stood up and tried to snatch it away from him, only for Kili to skip out of range. “Kili, stop fooling around, that’s quite old--”

“It certainly looks it,” Kili tossed the page to Fili, who caught it as it fluttered through the air.

Ori turned to Fili quickly. “Fili, please,” he said, trying to keep calm in the face of Kili’s... well, Kili. He held out a hand to the elder prince. “I need that back.”

Fili looked just as unimpressed with Ori as Kili did. A sly smile stretched underneath his mustache braids. “Oh, I dunno, Ori, a bit of exercise would do you some good. Wouldn’t you say, Kili?”

Kili grinned maniacally, bounding away from Ori’s desk and waving both arms over his head. “You bet. Give it here!”

With a growl, Ori leapt up from his chair, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in his lower back. “Fili, Kili, stop it--”

The paper fluttered enticingly in the air as it sailed from Fili to Kili, the younger prince snatching it out of the air with a triumphant grin. “Come on, Ori!” he said quickly, waving the page in one hand. “With all that sitting around you’ve been doing, don’t you want to do something fun for a change?” He waved the page back and forth, his grip tight enough to wrinkle the yellowed paper.

Ori gritted his teeth. “I’m out of my chair, Kili, see?” It was only by the grace of Mahal himself that he wasn’t actually growling at a member of Erebor’s royal family. “Now, please, would you give that back to me?”

Kili pursed his lips and pretended to think about it for a second. “Nope!” he chirped. “Fili, coming your way!” He tossed the paper quickly when Ori started closing in on him.

“Damn it, Kili--”

Fili burst into laughter. “Oh, _ho!_ Did you hear that, brother mine?”

Kili couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “I did indeed! We made Ori curse!”

Ori wheeled on Fili, snarling outright now. “Fili--”

“What do you think we should do, brother?” Fili asked, his gaze locked on Ori’s, his grin nearly feral. He passed the page from hand to hand mockingly, backing away as Ori tried to close the distance between them.

“Keep it from him! Let’s see if we can make him curse again!” Kili shouted, ducking around Balin’s desk and grabbing the page that his brother held out to him at the last second.

They didn’t anticipate Ori leaping forward, swiping frantically at the paper with one hand.

The sound of paper ripping apart was almost deafening.

Ori snatched his hand away, only to discover that he was holding a yellowed third of the page. It fell from nerveless fingers, fluttering to the floor, but Ori barely noticed. 

HIs heart was in his throat, his stomach was taking a hard, sickening turn down and to the left, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

 _I’ve been using this exercise since Erebor, lad, so try to be careful with it,_ Balin had said. _It’s quite fragile._

“Ori? Are you all right?” Kili asked, his voice amazingly small for a dwarf his size.

“Of course he’s not all right,” Fili snapped, smacking Kili in the back of the head. “He’s turning colors he ought not. Ori-"

“ _You._ ”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ori found himself surprised at just how deep a growl he could manage.

Both princes jumped.

“You inconsiderate _dunces,_ ” Ori snapped. “Do you two idiots have any idea what just happened?”

He could see Fili and Kili shake their heads, but he was already snapping at them again, his voice starting to rise in volume. “Master Balin’s had that writing exercise since before Erebor was taken! He trusted me to be careful with it, and now look at it!” He snatched it up from the floor and shook it at them. “ _Look at it!_ ”

Ori couldn’t even be bothered to look at their faces now, instead just yelling at where they were standing. “You two can fool around and complain about your weapons masters being too hard on you and do whatever the blazes you want because you’re the royal family, but I _can’t_. I have to work _twice_ as hard at being an apprentice because I’m _older_ than I should be and I learned everything the _wrong way._ My brother apologized to _me_ because he didn’t have the kind of money to get me an apprenticeship when I was younger, and if you don’t know how _wrong_ that is, _get out and drink the whole damn pub dry!_ ”

With a shriek that he knew he was going to be embarrassed over later, Ori wheeled on his writing desk, grabbed his ink bottle and threw it as hard as he could at the two princes.

Unfortunately, what Ori failed to realize was that it had been unstoppered, so as the small ink bottle flipped end over end, it spattered ink not only on his intended targets, but also on himself, Balin’s desk, and the carpet.

The ink bottle bounced off Fili’s chest to land on the floor and roll uselessly for a moment before dripping a few more drops of ink onto the carpet spitefully.

Ori blinked.

Fili blinked back.

Kili spat out some ink.

The moment felt so farcical that Ori wanted to laugh out loud, especially with the way there was ink speckling one of Fili’s mustache braids. He almost did, except for the looks on the princes’ faces.

“Ori?” Kili said softly. Ori was surprised to see that the younger prince looked like he was about to start _crying_. “I’m sorry.”

The guilt was so overpowering that it wiped any idea of a smile off Ori’s face. “Kili--”

“I’m sorry too,” Fili’s voice was rougher, but no less tentative. “We just missed having you around, is all.”

Ori’s heart plummeted in his chest. “No, Fili, I really shouldn’t have shouted at you. It’s my fault for getting worked up about it--”

Fili shook his head. “Ori, if you start apologizing, we’re just going to feel worse because it’s _our_ fault. We’ve been jerks for not noticing--”

Kili puffed up like an offended cat. “But you’re a jerk for not telling us it was so bad for you!”

Fili smacked his brother in the back of the head. “Don’t call him that! We were jerks for not being there for him when he needed us, and not being understanding!”

“Ow!” Kili yelped before he returned fire with a smack of his own. “Well, you’re a bigger jerk because you’re older, and you’re supposed to pick up on these things better!”

“Enough!” Ori snapped.

The brothers sprang apart surprisingly quickly. “Sorry,” they chorused.

Ori sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Never mind. How about we all just say that we’ve apologized and put this behind us, all right?”

The brothers looked mulish -- probably at the idea of Ori’s apologies being lumped in with theirs -- but they both nodded, to Ori’s relief.

Ori nodded firmly. “Good. All right, then. What’re we doing?”

Kili shot him a suspicious look. “Didn’t you say you had something to work on?” The question sounded more hopeful than his expression did.

Ori snorted, holding up his scrap of the yellowed page. “I think Durin the Deathless can return to his rest until the next time he’s needed,” he said dryly. He carefully set the scrap on his desk and used the hourglass to keep it in place.

“We can talk to Balin,” Fili offered gruffly. “Explain it was our fault.”

Ori sighed. “Fili, I’m a big dwarf. I can tie my own boot laces and everything. I’ll explain, and if he doesn’t want me as an apprentice anymore, I’ll figure out what to do from there.”

The brothers traded a look, and Ori found himself liking the idea that, for once, _they_ were the ones who weren’t entirely sure what was going on. Things were going wonderfully.

All right, no, not everything was going wonderfully. He really didn’t like the idea of what Master Balin was going to say when he discovered the state his writing exercise was in. And he wasn’t sure if he was going to keep himself from going out of his mind the next time another silly assignment was giving him trouble.

But something was different now. Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually yelled at Fili and Kili. Maybe it was that the damnable yellowed page was torn to shreds. Whatever it was, Ori found himself feeling more clear-headed than he had before. Like, maybe, things weren’t quite so hopeless, no matter how they turned out.

With a tiny smile, Ori clapped his hands firmly together before rubbing them, deliberately reminding himself of when he’d seen Nori do the same thing before he dove headfirst into trouble. Tonight, it seemed, was a good night for it. “Now, I’m feeling thirsty. Let’s go see if the pub’s got anything new to drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, [Elsajeni](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni), for beta'ing this chapter!
> 
> Also, massive thanks to [Mynuet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet) for helping break the writer's block. I shudder to think what would've happened if she hadn't helped out.


	12. Good Intentions and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori gets his drink on. And then other things happen.
> 
> There might even be yelling involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twelve days is a lot better turnaround time than two months, right? I think? :D?
> 
> Thank you to both Elsajeni and ForAllLove for their beta-reading. This fic wouldn't get anywhere without you two. <3

“I love you guys.”

Fili and Kili traded a look that was both impressed and intensely relieved.

“Mahal’s beard, I didn’t think he could drink that much.” Kili’s eyes were wide.

Ori snorted hard enough to hurt himself before he started giggling. “You should see the looks on your _faces_.”

“Well, we can’t take him back to Balin like this,” Fili said sternly. “He’ll get in even more trouble than he’s already been.”

Kili looked chastised. “Well, let’s just ask him where we can drop him off.” He turned back to Ori with a bright smile. “There any place we can take you so you can get some sleep? We’d offer to take you with us but-- ow!”

Fili dropped his arm without even acknowledging Kili’s scowl, smiling at Ori. “Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a dunce, like you said earlier.”

Ori nodded. He vaguely remembered calling the two of them that, but that was before the drinking. “It’s all right. You’re not dunces anymore.”

“After how much we’ve spent on your drinks, we better not be,” Kili muttered.

Fili shot his younger brother a look before turning back to Ori. “Is there someone we can take you to? We don’t want to get you in trouble with Balin, is all.”

Ori opened his mouth, and then had to stop himself, suddenly unable to remember what he was about to say.

“Maybe your mum?” Fili prompted.

“Or your dad?” Kili offered.

Ori shook his head morosely, and then quite gingerly when his head felt like there was a cask of ale sloshing around inside of it. “Dead. Both of them.” He sighed. “Never knew ‘em.”

The brothers reached out and clapped his shoulders a bit too hard. “Sorry about that, mate.”

“Ow.”

“Anybody else, then?” Fili asked. “A brother?”

“I’ve got brothers!” Ori announced suddenly, a grin sloshing onto his face. “Two of them!” Then he remembered what happened the last time he’d seen Nori, and his expression fell. “Only, Nori’s gone.”

Fili and Kili traded a look before Kili turned back to him. “Gone?”

Ori nodded a few times before he groaned and grabbed his wobbling head. “He had to leave. Go far away so the watch couldn’t find him.” His face screwed up into an expression of intense pain, and then his head landed on the table with an audible thunk. “Gone. All gone. May never see him again.”

The brothers looked like they were starting to panic.

“Okay, so not Nori then,” Fili said quickly, trying to salvage the situation. “What about your other brother?”

Ori lifted his head from the table to look at Fili in utmost confusion. “How do you know about Dori? I didn’t tell you about him.” He was fairly sure he hadn’t.

“You just said--” Fili sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose like he remembered his uncle doing when they were little. In fact, he _still_ did it. “Never mind. Can we take you to see him? Maybe he’ll let you sleep this off?”

Ori’s confusion melted away into absolute joy. “Yeah! Dori’s amazing.” His eyes lit up. “You should meet him! He’s...”

“Amazing?” Kili offered when Ori’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” Ori agreed. “How did you know?”

Fili shoved at Kili’s shoulder. “Stop encouraging him.” He turned to Ori and said, “Well, if you think so highly of him, we should definitely meet him.”

“And that way, you can sleep off the drink,” Kili added with a grin.

Fili nodded at him in agreement. “That all right with you, Ori?”

Ori nodded firmly, and then clapped both of his hands to the sides of his head. “Ow.”

Fili and Kili were about to stand up when Ori reached out and grabbed both of them by the wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Ori...?” Fili asked, looking confused.

Ori brought a shushing finger to his lips. “You can't tell him you're royalty!” he whispered. Well, he _tried_ to whisper. There were a few dwarves at the next table who glanced over at the three of them, and then laughed out loud at how drunk Ori looked.

Fili and Kili blinked.

“Why not?” Kili asked, more curious than offended at the slurred order.

“ _Because_ ,” Ori said firmly, with a fierce scowl, “He'll start bowing and calling you by your titles and he shouldn't bow to you because you guys are assholes and he's awesome.” He took a breath before forging on in a tumble of syllables, completely unaware of Fili and Kili’s injured expressions. “You guys should be bowing to _him_. And he'll make us the best tea _ever_.” Ori’s eyes lit up. “We should go now.”

Fili and Kili traded a faintly worried look.

***

The day had been entirely too long. Their best supplier sent an entire shipment of the wrong fabric, which meant that three special-order doublets would be delayed for at least another week, which of _course_ meant that those were the three customers who couldn’t be contacted about the delay. Then four customers arrived all at once, screaming about invisible popped seams and imaginary sloppy stitching. It had gotten to the point where Jori had a meltdown in the middle of the afternoon right after Popped Seam #3, and had to be sent home.

All of this meant that, right now, Dori was ready to murder a cup of tea. He was even ready to crack open the bottle of Erebor whiskey, but that stuff was still in the process of aging, and it was his last bottle to boot--

The rapid knocking on the door almost made him start shouting.

He gritted his teeth, managed to lever himself out of the armchair that he’d gratefully sunk into, and flung open the door.

And, of course, there Ori was, practically being carried between two young dwarves Dori had never met before. The blond on the right looked faintly apologetic. The brunet on the left looked very pleased with himself.

It took a monumental effort of will not to start shouting right away. “Yes?”

“Ki--” The dwarf on the left began with a bright grin before he suddenly yelped and glared at the blond. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

The blond glared at him before turning to Dori. “Our apologies, Master Dori, but Ori here got a bit too drunk, and we’d thought we’d take him home.”

Dori stared at the two of them. “Yes, I can see that. What were your names again?”

The blond winced. “Ori told us not to say. Is it okay if we leave him here with you? He’s already gotten in trouble with his master--”

It was the brunet’s turn to glare, apparently. “Weren’t we the ones who--”

Dori upped the ante by glaring at the two of them. “What’s this about you getting my brother in trouble with his master?”

Ori looked up from his slump and grinned sloppily. “Dori! Hello!”

Dori sighed heavily. “Hello, Ori. What’s this about you being in trouble with your master?” He reached forward and took over supporting his little brother, not noticing the surprised looks on the two dwarves’ faces.

Ori’s expression fell. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Must be why you weren’t all that keen to get back to him,” Dori muttered to himself, easily half-carrying Ori inside and taking him to the couch and laying him down on his side. When Ori tried to lay on his back, Dori shook his head quickly. “No, you want to stay on your side, just in case you throw up.”

He turned to the two dwarves who were standing awkwardly at the door. “Well, what’re you two waiting for? Come in! And if you want to make yourselves useful, get a large bowl from the kitchen and a glass of water. I’ve never seen Ori look so green.”

The two jumped, rushing inside to do as Dori ordered before they realized what was happening.

Dori took a handkerchief from his pocket, turned back to his little brother, and gently patted his face. “Are you all right, Ori? Do you feel sick?”

Ori let out a long snort, still smiling. “Nope. Just good.” He frowned quickly. “I can’t remember why I’m here. Why am I here?”

Dori snorted. “Your two ‘friends’ decided to drop you off because they got you in trouble with your master. Why did you tell them not to tell me their names?” He frowned. “They’re not criminals, are they?”

“Nope!” Ori’s smile lasted for two seconds before he looked like he’d been hit with a hammer, and then he tried to curl up into a tiny ball, only to manage a pitiful sort of bend in his back. “Tore Master’s exercise,” he mumbled, turning his face into the couch cushion miserably.

Well, that was a bit of nonsense right there. Dori frowned at his little brother, and then lifted his head to snap, “Where’s that water?”

“Coming!” And soon enough, both dwarves were back in the living room, having done as they were bid and were ready with an empty bowl, and a glass of water. Dori eyed them critically for a moment before accepting the water and the bowl, setting them down carefully on the floor near Ori’s head, and getting up to stare at the two dwarves again.

“Now, who did you say you were?” Dori asked with a polite, shark-like smile, “and what exactly happened that Ori’s in trouble with his master?”

The two traded anxious looks.

***

It was nice, really, the couch. As much as Ori liked his bed, the couch had always been a nice alternative, especially when he’d spent a good portion of the night before copying a tome from the library. When he twisted, he could feel the soft, cozy blanket that Dori kept on the back of the couch draped over him, and that was even better, because it was never too hot or too cold, not like his room back at Master Balin’s--

Ori’s eyes shot wide open.

He regretted it almost immediately, because what little light there was coming from the kitchen was searing right into his eyeballs, making him whimper and curl piteously into the blanket, dragging it over his head and wishing the world would stop attacking him.

Now that he was more aware, his mouth tasted like someone had shoved a dirty sock in it, his head felt like there were a few forges’ worth of strikers in there, hard at work, and his stomach gave a hard lurch.

Somehow, he discovered the large bowl next to the couch when he shoved his head out of the protective nest to try to save himself and the blanket from the vomit, and as he watched it land in the bowl, he found himself wondering why in Arda anyone would ever voluntarily get themselves drunk when this was the aftermath.

After a few minutes of staring at the contents of the bowl, and wondering if he had anything left in his stomach to come back up, he reached out a weak hand for the glass of water he saw, grabbed it by the grace of Mahal, and sipped it gingerly to rinse out his mouth.

“You awake, Ori?”

His oldest brother’s call from the kitchen startled him so badly that he nearly dropped the glass. Instead, water sloshed over his hand and partly on the floor. Managing a weak “yes”, he tried for another mouthful, rinsed out his mouth, and set the glass down to let his head thump back onto the couch cushion. For a moment, he ended up marveling at the fact that somehow, rinsing out his mouth made it taste _worse_.

“Ah, good.” Ori saw Dori walk into view with another bowl and glass of water, smiling indulgently. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Ori moaned weakly.

Dori’s smile got wider. “I’ve got some bacon in the oven right now. All that delicious grease.”

Through his pounding head, Ori could feel a faint sense of absolute horror. Of course, that’s when his nose picked up the usually wonderful scent of sizzling bacon. When reminded of just how hideously greasy it was, Ori’s stomach tried to give another lurch. He hung himself over the edge of the couch quickly, blood rushing to his head.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” Dori said, a warm hand squeezing one of his shoulders, “Don’t overindulge. If your two ‘friends’ hadn’t been with you to--”

Ori’s eyes widened, the haze in his mind dissipating with stomach-turning clarity. “Are they still here?” He sat up gingerly.

Dori frowned, setting a new bowl and glass of water down within easy reach and then reaching for Ori’s shoulders. “They ran off last night without so much as a by-your-leave, the little buggers. Here, lay back. The bacon’s almost ready.”

Ori allowed himself to be laid back on the couch, wincing and groaning when his head made contact with the couch cushion. He would’ve closed his eyes to see if that would make his head stop pounding, but then Dori spoke again.

“Honestly, getting yourself falling-down drunk because of a torn exercise and a little spilled ink. If Balin were to end your apprenticeship over that, he would’ve lost dozens of apprentices by now--”

Ori’s eyes snapped open, and for a split second, he was sober enough to see the future. Or, at least a future where he was going to get himself dressed down by Master Balin because _he hadn’t cleaned the carpet last night_.

“Ori, what’re you doing?” Dori snapped. “Lay back down--”

Ori threw off the blanket, glanced himself over and saw that his shoes had been removed while he was unconscious. “Shoes,” he muttered quickly, getting up from the couch and looking around. Panic was starting to overtake the fuzzy clumsiness of the hangover. “Where...? What time...?”

Dori rolled his eyes. “Ori, sit back down.”

Ori shook his head quickly, fighting down the queasiness as best he could and looking all around the room. “Dori, I need to go, I’m already late--” When he found his shoes near the front door (obvious place for them, really), he shoved his left foot into one of them.

“Take some bacon with you!” Dori ordered from the kitchen.

“No, that’s okay,” Ori managed, putting his other shoe on hastily. “Thanks, sorry about barging in drunk, love you, bye!” And with that, he was out the door.

Running back to Balin’s was a haze of panic-fuelled adrenaline. Dwarves shouted and glared when Ori bumped into them, but the most he could manage was a hasty apology before he sped off again.

When he finally made it to Balin’s office, his legs were shaking, he couldn’t get enough air into his chest, and his head was pounding harder than a full team of smiths. His stomach was not something he was going to think about, because if he did, he feared the results. “Master-- Balin--”

Balin lifted his gaze from a legal contract to blink at him. “Ori, there you are,” he said cheerfully. He stopped, and then shot his apprentice a concerned frown. “Are you all right, lad?”

Ori tried to actually say something, but when he couldn’t do anything but drag in lungfuls of air, he bent over to rest his thighs and concentrate on breathing. He was also trying not to think about how silly he looked, but of course, that didn’t work.

Balin’s lips twitched before he nodded over to one of the chairs facing his desk. “Sit down before you fall, lad. Whatever you have to say can wait until you can speak without gasping.”

Ori felt his cheeks get warm, but he sank into the chair gratefully, folding his arms on the edge of Balin’s desk and resting his head on top of them. He stared mindlessly at the floor for a moment, his breathing loud in his ears before he realized that there was something he’d meant to do before Balin got in this morning.

“The ink--” Ori said breathlessly, lifting his head to at least look Balin in the eye. “Master, I’m so sorry--”

Balin waved away the objection with a smile. “I’ve seen worse disasters in my time. Nothing a bit of cleaning won’t get out.” He gave his apprentice a steady look. “I’m sure you’ll have it out by this evening?”

Ori ducked his head, hearing the chastisement in his master’s tone. “Yes, Master.”

Balin nodded, looking satisfied. “Excellent.” He set the contract down, and stood from his chair. A bit surprised -- Balin didn’t usually get up from his chair when he could have Ori fetch something for him -- Ori made to get up, but stayed sitting when Balin shook his head.

“You’re fine, lad, stay seated,” Balin said, moving around his desk. “It seems to me that I’ve been remiss with your training.”

Ori stared at him blankly. “Remiss...?”

Balin nodded firmly, one hand reaching out for a pile of papers held down by an Orc skull that Ori had mentally dubbed “Patience” the first time he’d seen it. Setting the skull aside, Balin looked over the stack of papers.

“Let’s see now,” Balin murmured to himself before thumbing through it, plucking a page seemingly at random, and showing it to Ori. Sure enough, it looked like one of the copies he’d made over the past three days. “Whenever I’ve used this exercise in the past, there would come a point where my apprentice would refuse to copy it anymore. A few of them have even shouted at me over it.”

Ori stared at him, the dregs of his hangover starting to drift away to be replaced by a feeling in the pit of his stomach that there had been a lesson to learn from this exercise other than the obvious one, and he hadn’t learned it.

Balin pulled another page from the stack, and again, it was the same exercise. “How many pages do you think it usually takes before an apprentice can’t take it anymore?”

Ori shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Balin looked up from the stack and smiled. “Guess.”

Ori had lost count of how many _he’d_ completed, and now he had to guess a number? With a sinking feeling, he tentatively offered, “Um... ninety?”

Ori felt like his stomach was filled with writhing snakes at Balin’s smile. “It’s more like forty. Some have given me as few as fifteen before they refused to continue, but those were the ones that didn’t last very long.”

Ori winced. He’d definitely done more than forty since the exercise began. He wasn’t even sure how many he’d done in the past three days. “Oh.”

Balin started setting the pages that he’d removed from the stack on his desk, and the rest of the stack into a separate pile. Then he picked up a third pile, and thumbed through it just as diligently. “Do you know what the lesson is that the exercise teaches?”

“I thought I did,” Ori muttered, gritting his teeth.

“Hmmm?” Balin asked, raising his eyebrows politely.

Ori cleared his throat. “I thought the exercise was supposed to evaluate an apprentice’s skills under a time limit, Master.”

Balin looked up from the stack in his hands, a surprised frown on his face. “A test?”

Ori gritted his teeth and nodded once.

“And what did you think when I kept assigning it to you?” Balin asked mildly, thumbing through the stack again.

Ori felt like his teeth were starting to creak, his embarrassment rising. “I kept failing.”

Balin, who’d been in the act of pulling a page out of the stack in his hands, stopped in mid-motion. “But you were copying everything on the page,” he pointed out. “As soon as you were able to write fast enough to meet the time limit, that is.”

Ori could feel himself shrinking into the chair, but he was so sick to his stomach, he didn’t care how he looked. “I was getting something wrong, and I wasn’t smart enough to figure out what it was.”

Balin set the stack down and watched Ori steadily. “What did you think was going to happen if you had continued to fail?”

Ori didn’t meet his master’s gaze, even if he could feel it burning holes inside of him. “Sooner or later, I would lose my apprenticeship.”

There was a long, choking silence that stretched between the two of them, Ori frozen where he was, not looking up from where he was mindlessly staring at Patience on Balin’s desk. He’d remembered thinking that an orc skull was a strange sort of paperweight, but it seemed almost appropriate somehow, that a scholar would triumph over his enemies and embarrass them by turning them into something useful.

He looked up when an old tome and a thick, bound sheaf of papers were offered to him. “Master?”

“Open the tome to the first full page of text, and then open the sheaf to the same page,” Balin said.

Ori accepted both, not entirely sure why the tome looked familiar, but doing as he was bid. The tome creaked alarmingly when the cover was opened, and the pages were cracked and yellowed. The text itself was faint, and the subject matter was as dry as the pages were. When he turned to the same page in the sheaf of papers, he squinted at it.

“This looks familiar...?”

“It should,” Balin said with a smile. “Master Hamal gave that to me when he was telling me about the copying work you did.”

Ori blinked, setting the tome on Balin’s desk carefully in order to flip the sheaf of papers over, peeling the back page open. **COPIED BY ORI, SON OF HALDI** stood out in bold ink, the runes a little crooked, but legible. The date showed it had been finished twelve years ago.

Ori looked up at Balin, who waved at the tome. “Compare the two. How many mistakes can you find?”

Ori felt his cheeks turn red. “More than there should be.”

“Oh, of course, you were only in your forties when you did this,” Balin agreed with a smile. “Compare them anyway.”

Checking a sigh, Ori turned the sheaf of papers back to the first page of text and sat it next to the tome, starting from the top of the page, and then making his way down, line by line. He winced each time he found a mistake, and he sighed heavily when he found that the lines his younger self had made started drifting upwards. By the end of it, he sat back in his chair and rubbed at his neck. “Sixteen that I can immediately see, though there might be more that I’ve missed.” He shook his head, and groaned. “I can’t believe I even submitted something like this to the library, let alone got paid for it.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, lad,” Balin said mildly. “Need I remind you that your brother taught you your runes, and for the rest of it, you were self-taught?”

Ori shook his head, easing the cover to the old tome closed. “This kind of work is just-- just shoddy craftmanship,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter how old I was, I didn’t follow the rules. The draft should’ve been rejected immediately.”

Balin watched him for a long moment before he pulled two pieces of paper, seemingly at random. “All right then, tell me what you make of these?”

Ori glanced up at his master before accepting the pages. He recognized the writing exercise that he’d been working on for the past two weeks, but the pages in front of him were as different as night and day. The one in his left hand was a bit hurried, but the letters were legible, and the lines were relatively even. The one in his right hand made him feel embarrassed for whoever submitted it.

“If you were presented with these two pages,” Balin said, “and you would pay up to twenty gold pieces for an accurately-copied page, how would you pay these two scribes?”

Ori shot him a surprised frown before looking at the pages again. “This would get fifteen,” he said immediately, setting the page down on the desk and using Patience to pin it down so it wouldn’t move. “This would get rejected.” He offered the page back to Balin.

Balin’s eyebrows rose as he accepted it. “No reduced payment for this one? Just a rejection?”

Ori nodded. “All of the runes have curves and flourishes--” He stopped suddenly, looking worried. “The scribe wasn’t writing in Tengwar, were they?”

Balin shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. So, basically, this page is a wash. All right.” He set the page aside on the other side of his desk, away from Ori. “So, what about that page there?” He pointed at the other page Ori had looked at. “Why only fifteen?”

“The text is fine, but you can tell that the scribe was in a hurry,” Ori said, shaking his head. “Hurrying just means more mistakes. The ink can smear if you’re not careful. This scribe’s lucky the page is as readable as it is.”

“And what would you have told him?” Balin asked.

“Take a deep breath, drink some tea, and time himself for a minute for each line,” Ori replied. “With the sixty lines in the exercise, it forces you to slow down.”

Balin’s smile reminded Ori of his eldest brother.

Ori stopped, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “I just paid myself fifteen gold pieces, didn’t I,” he said flatly. “And I told myself to slow down.”

His master nodded approvingly, his smile widening. “That you did, lad.”

Ori frowned, turning to the page on Balin’s desk. “Then... who did I reject?”

Balin chuckled. “Do you know of a dwarf named Onar, son of Hannar?” When Ori shook his head, he said, “According to the Grandmaster of Ered Luin’s scrivening guild, he’s the most promising student to come in eighty years.”

Ori stared at him. “That wasn’t his most recent version of the exercise, was it?”

Balin nodded firmly. “It was his best one.”

Ori picked up the page and stared at it, dumbfounded. “How could he _possibly_...?”

Balin shrugged. “When you think of an apprentice as the best scribe you have ever had the privilege to teach, you tend to give a bit of leeway.”

Ori half-smiled up at him. “Lucky you don’t think that way about me.” His smile slipped when Balin didn’t smile back. “...Master?”

“Ori, why do you think I showed you those two pages?” Balin asked gently.

“To show me that even the students that everyone thinks highly of can be wrong?” Ori offered.

Balin looked surprised for a moment before he smiled. “All right, then, what about the tome and your copying work? What was I trying to show you there?”

Ori winced. “I really hope you were trying to show me that I wasn’t as bad as I was twelve years ago.”

Balin snorted. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Ori frowned, panic starting to rise up from his stomach. Or possibly that was still the hangover. He wasn’t quite sure. “Master?”

“What were the mistakes you made with the tome?” Balin asked. “Did you illuminate the page incorrectly?”

Ori frowned, confusion rapidly taking over. “The page wasn’t supposed to be illuminated.”

“And what about the runes? Were there any flourishes or curves you should’ve included?” Balin pressed.

Ori shot him a profoundly annoyed look. “Begging your pardon, Master, but it’s _copying_ work. You’re supposed to copy what you see, and nothing else.”

“And that right there is why I will _never_ stop teaching you.”

Ori blinked.

Balin smiled proudly. “The writing exercise is supposed to show each student that scrivening work isn’t going to be glamorous. You’re not going to be copying over the great epics all the time, and it is very rare that dwarves as young as you would ever be chosen for special tasks, such as being a royal scribe or taking dictation in courts of law.”

Ori frowned. “But that’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”

“Not to dwarves who come from noble families, whose masters who want to be able to say, ‘I taught Onar, son of Hannar’,” Balin said.

Ori found himself remembering all of the snotty nobles and their equally snotty heirs who’d ever come to the tailor shop where Dori worked and treated every mistake and delay like a personal affront. Before he could stop himself, Ori groaned and thunked his head against the edge of Balin’s desk.

Balin chuckled. “I know how you feel, lad. It’s why I also need to apologize to you.”

Ori jerked his head up to stare at his master. “Apologize? Why?”

Balin looked at him steadily. “Why shouldn’t I? I treated you like every other student I’ve had in the past, instead of remembering that you taught yourself by copying what must be the most boring texts the library has to offer.”

Ori felt himself start blushing, but as much as he tried to stop it, it wasn’t fading. “That’s not necessary--”

“I wasn’t finished,” Balin nearly growled.

Ori’s face grew hotter. “Sorry, Master.”

Balin watched him for a long moment before nodding firmly. “Furthermore, what I thought was a lesson in the reality of scrivening work became something that made you lose faith in yourself, and _that_ is unforgiveable.”

Ori gritted his teeth, looking away from his master and scratching the back of his neck to have something to occupy his hands. It was embarrassing to remember, after having run himself into the ground for the past week, that he fell apart so easily under so little pressure.

“Can you accept my apology?” Balin asked gently.

Ori gritted his teeth, looking at his lap. “For me caving in at the first sign of a pick-axe?” he asked morosely.

“Ori, you thought you had learned your runes incorrectly,” Balin said, his tone still gentle. “As if there was a right way to learn them to begin with, as long as you can write them properly. And while you are older than most when they’re accepted for an apprenticeship, you’ve been missing a very important point in all of the questions I’ve been asking you.”

Ori didn’t think he could look up from staring at his lap like a dwarfling, because of _course_ he missed something else. “Which is?”

“You are more gifted at your age than some scribes twenty years older. Onar’s exercise? He did that three weeks ago, and he’s been training with his master for nearly twenty years. And before you ask, he started his apprenticeship in his early fifties.”

Ori lifted his head slowly.

“If I gave that entire tome to apprentices older than you, their results would be riddled with enough mistakes to make you scream. Half of them would start whining about how boring the tome itself is, and the other half would be skipping pages in order to get the job done faster. And copying entire tomes isn’t something you do until your final years as an apprentice.”

Ori’s eyes rose to meet Balin’s.

“You are _my_ student, Ori, son of Haldi,” Balin said firmly. “And I am so sorry that I treated you and your abilities with less respect than you deserved.”

Ori bit his lip, hard, and got out of his chair. He didn’t realize what he was going to do until he was enveloped in a warm embrace, Balin’s hands patting his back soothingly as he held on.

“You _are_ going to remember about the ink stains on the carpet, aren’t you?” Balin’s question was soft.

Ori gave a watery laugh. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.”


	13. Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know you, getting to know all about you....

Three blissful weeks passed, filled with grueling work that made Ori’s fingers stiff and his neck ache from time to time. And yet, Ori could feel a sense of accomplishment in his bones, like he was _finally_ getting somewhere with his apprenticeship. As a treat to himself, he decided to take a fish sandwich and eat it at the Central Meatgrinder.

It wasn't actually a meatgrinder -- except to the city watch recruits who trained there on a fairly regular basis, perhaps. But it _was_ the largest training ground that Ori had come across while he inevitably got lost during his first week of apprenticing. While most training areas tended to be small enough to allow some groups to train together, the Central Meatgrinder could easily fit whole regiments, though Ori was never entirely sure if that's what they were supposed to be called.

(Fili had tried to explain the difference once, talking about regiments, platoons, and battalions, but Ori had gotten lost three words in, and had fallen back to nodding politely and making understanding noises as needed for the remainder of the conversation.)

When Ori learned that Balin's office was only a few corridors away from the Meatgrinder, he'd been confused at the arrangement before Balin explained that his office had initially belonged to some sort of military commander before he'd taken it over. The ruler of Ered Luin had had to make room for the exiled Erebor royal family in something of a hurry, Balin had explained with a chuckle, and the Line of Durin hadn't been all that fussed with trying to change their living arrangements in the decades since they'd first arrived.

Today, it seemed, there were three dwarves fighting while the rest of the trainees were gathered around to watch, firelight glinting off shining helms and polished breastplates. It wasn't extremely unusual, what with different groups working on different skills and all, but Ori recognized a head of golden hair through the crowd, and was fairly sure he knew what was happening.

The princes of Erebor usually got the training ground to themselves for their own protection, at their uncle’s insistence. The only trainees allowed near them were ones who could be trusted.

When Ori had first discovered that Fili and Kili used the training ground, he told himself that he shouldn't have been surprised, especially given how much the brothers tended to complain about their different weapons masters. After a time or two of being dismissed early when Balin had meetings with different clan heads in Ered Luin, Ori had taken to haunting the training ground, watching Fili and Kili's progress until they were both finished for the day, and then the three of them would head for the Miner's Drift together.

During this particular lunch break, Ori noticed that Fili and Kili were the two of the three combatants on the field, the rest of the trainees clustered around the three-dwarf fight in a ring, shouting and gesticulating enthusiastically. The brothers were pressing hard on one dwarf who was built like a small fortress, heavier in the shoulders than they were, with arms like tree trunks.

The dwarf seemed to be half-dressed in armor, which made him look just a little ridiculous. (Ori was guessing the dwarf was a he -- there were dwarrowdams on the city watch, but he never actually seen any at the Central Meatgrinder before.) The dwarf was wearing breastplate and a helm that hid his features, but Ori noticed he wasn't wearing the greaves or shin-guards, only a pair of trousers and boots that had seen better years.

While Fili and Kili were certainly giving the dwarf a hard time, the half-armored dwarf was actually doing a very good job of defending himself, even to Ori's untrained eye. He didn't seem to be pressing on the offensive, which made Ori think that perhaps this was one of their weapons-masters instead of the trainees Ori had seen them matched with before. When the half-armored dwarf’s axe blade met Kili’s sword with the ring of steel on steel, Ori knew they were using real weapons instead of the typical wooden training swords.

Fili was armed with a war hammer that looked heavy enough to shatter the half-armored dwarf's unprotected knee if it landed a solid blow. Kili, on the other hand, was armed with a sword that looked like it had been made during one of the Dwarven-Orcish wars in years past. The dwarf they were fighting, however, was armed with a pair of axes, rough-hewn but ringing just as solidly as the war hammer and sword.

War hammer met axe, axe met sword, and sometimes, war hammer somehow ended up meeting sword, quite by accident. Or, quite possibly, through a deliberate act whenever the half-armored dwarf would redirect a blow that would end up sending one brother into the other. The brothers were gritting their teeth, their hair hanging in damp, sweaty strings -- Fili's hair was coming undone from its braids, and Kili's hair was just wild. They were giving as good as they could manage, and somehow, the half-armored dwarf looked almost _bored_. He kept going, one-two-three-four, like clockwork.

Watching the half-armored dwarf was like watching a dancer in his element. It was a song he knew by heart, steps he’d danced for years. Blades scythed through the air, tracing runes with each ringing clash of metal. Feet stepped and pivoted to a beat that Ori couldn't hear, but could almost feel inside him. It was almost breathtaking watching him move. Whenever Ori thought that one of the brothers would land a hit, the half-armored dwarf’s hips would twist in a way that made Ori’s mouth water, and the blow would only whistle harmlessly through the air.

A few minutes of watching soon had Ori jumping to his feet, poised to shout a warning to any of the combatants because he could see a blow coming. Most of the time, he was trying to warn Fili or Kili, but it always ended up going unsaid because they didn't need it. One particular jab aimed at the half-armored dwarf's unprotected thigh had Ori's heart leaping into his throat, but before he could get a sound out of his mouth, the dwarf stepped away, flowing like fabric slipping off of one of Dori's fitting mannequins.

There was a single moment when the half-armored dwarf turned, and Ori could see the detailed work on the front of his helm, a roaring griffin in steel. It was very beautiful work, though it had been scarred and pitted from years of use.

Suddenly, the dwarf noticed him.

It was no more than a twitch, no more than a single motion of his head, but Ori could tell that eyes were on him. And for the briefest of moments, those eyes felt like they were penetrating him to his boots. Just as quickly as the glance registered, it turned away again, focusing on the brothers.

And then, the dwarf did something Ori wasn't expecting.

He stopped, turned his head again, and looked straight at him.

Time seemed to slow down as Ori watched -- the dwarf stared at him, and then Fili's war hammer swung in a beautiful arc. And then it connected with the side of the dwarf's helm.

The dwarf wobbled where he stood, and dropped one of his axes.

The ring of trainees fell silent.

Ori's heart was hammering in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was yelling at himself for not having eaten lunch in Balin’s office like he usually did, because it looked like he'd just distracted whoever was training Fili and Kili. He wasn't sure what he should be saying (he was too far away, what would he say), what he should be doing (his feet weren’t moving), but he couldn't stop himself from watching as the dwarf reached up and removed his helm.

Ori froze.

The top of the dwarf's head was bald, the rough skin showing tattoo work, the blue ink standing out against his skin. The hair trailing down from the sides of his head was black, hanging down loose, without beads or braids. The same held true for his full, black beard.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was fascinated with how it looked as though his sketches had come to life. Curves and planes became toned muscle and skin. What had seemed to be random lines on paper became barely-seen scars. And that lower lip, just visible through his dark beard, looked as impossibly soft as it did in his sketches. If he were close enough to see the dwarf’s eyes, Ori was positive they would be blue.

His soulmate was here. Not just in Ered Luin, but standing tens of feet away from him. Ori wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh out loud at the irony or throw up at the feeling that he was _not_ prepared for this. His body seemed to be making the decision for him by freezing in place, his heart hammering loud enough that it felt like it was echoing in his ears.

The dwarf stared at him with dark, penetrating eyes for a long moment before reaching down and grabbing the axe that he had dropped. When he turned back to Fili and Kili, the brothers' faces were white.

The dwarf let out a low growl, spun his axes in beautiful, graceful circles, readjusting his grip as Ori watched, and roared.

As soon as he roared, Ori's feet were in motion. The sandwich bread that he hadn’t been aware he was still holding was crushed in an iron-grip, oozing remnants of sandwich filling onto his fingers, and he bolted.

He ran for the nearest door. He wasn't even sure _where_ he was running, but he knew he just had to _go_ , had to get _out of there_. He barreled through doorways, pushed aside dwarves who squawked in protest, all the while hoping that no one recognized him.

In the back of his mind, he knew he was being silly, that he was acting like a dwarfling who was scared of a thunderstorm, but his feet didn't want to stop running, his breath didn't stop coming hard and fast, his heartbeat didn't stop thundering in his ears.

When he came back to himself, he was sitting underneath a table, with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the remains of his sandwich in his right hand with a detached sort of curiosity. He was getting a side-stitch now, sharp in his left side.

 _He’s here,_ he thought frantically, _He’s here, and I don’t even know his name._

***

It wasn’t a good plan -- even Ori knew that -- but given the shock he’d received a few hours ago, he couldn’t really think of anything else to do. Wasn’t it traditional to get drunk as quickly as possible upon learning that the one dwarf who you would most likely spend the rest of your life with was actually somewhere close by, and you were definitely _not_ prepared to meet him?

Ori winced, taking another small sip from his tankard and trying to ease the tension out of his shoulders. He wasn’t prepared -- of _course_ he wasn’t. Ever since the first sketch, he’d been thinking that he’d meet him... _eventually_. When he was older. Much older. And a lot more prepared than he was right now.

When he was older, he wouldn’t have to worry about being too young, or too scrawny, or having a baby-face. He would’ve been established as a scribe, with a respectable position at a library or in some merchant house, and a nice home to return to in the evenings when he wasn’t spending time with Fili and Kili. He would have experience with the world, even if it was safely contained within Ered Luin.

In the back of his mind was a voice that added that when he was older, Dori wouldn’t be so worried about him, and that Nori would be able to come home and the three of them could try to be a family on more or less equal footing.

He shook his head firmly, trying not to think about that part. It was possible that he was being entirely too optimistic about the future, but since he was in a pub supposedly trying to get drunk, he felt he could safely blame the drink.

As much as the idea of saying two words to his soulmate and looking like a complete fool made him want to jump out of his chair, scream, and start running, he knew that he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t just some scared dwarfling who needed to run back to Dori and hide behind him whenever something terrible happened. Most dwarves wouldn’t even think that this was terrible, even, meeting your soulmate. This would be the sort of thing that a dwarf would wait for their whole lives, and as soon as it happened, it would be the stuff of legends, to be told to children or nieces and nephews, and it would be a fine example of Mahal’s love for his children.

Ori resisted the urge to let his head land on the table. No, he couldn’t think about that. He would keep his mind focused and just wait for Fili and Kili. They were going to be here soon, and then he would be able to calm down, pretend that absolutely nothing was wrong, nurse his _single_ drink, and figure out who his soulmate actually _was_.

Oh, sure, he knew his soulmate was strong, and handsome, and much _taller_ than he’d expected, but if Fili and Kili were training with him, they’d actually know something important about him, like his name.

And, of course, that was precisely the moment when Fili and Kili entered the pub.

Kili spotted him in seconds, nudging his brother with a shoulder and pointing him out before the two split off, Kili to get drinks, and Fili to join him.

"Was that you running off from the training ground?" Fili murmured, sliding into a chair. Half-frowning, he added, "Are you all right?"

Ori tried not to blush, failed miserably, and managed a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. How was training?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "Dwalin continues to be a bastard. I get one good shot on him, and that means that we’re ready for more intense training."

Ori nodded vaguely, having trouble surfacing from his thoughts. "Congratulations."

"I wonder if I shouldn't have taken advantage of his distraction," Fili said as he nodded his thanks.

"Hey," Kili said as he approached the table. He sat down on Fili's other side and set the tankards down in front of them. "Dwalin's always telling us to use dirty tricks. Orcs and goblins aren't going to fight fair."

Fili nodded. "I just wish I knew what distracted him, though. One moment, he's swinging both of his axes at us, and the next, he's turning around to stare at something. If he hadn't turned around, I wouldn't have swung."

 _They could’ve been fighting lots of different dwarves who got distracted,_ Ori thought to himself quickly. _It might not be him they’re talking about._ Despite his stern self-reprimand, he found himself remembering a sketch he’d done a few weeks prior where he could see the blade of an axe over one shoulder. With a polite smile, he asked, "He's got two axes?"

Kili nodded. "Grasper and Keeper, he calls them. Wicked-looking things. I wonder if he's had them since Erebor."

Fili hummed, taking a sip of his drink. "He's also got a war hammer, but he only ever uses that as a last resort.” He traded an annoyed look with his brother. “Must not have thought we’d be able to get one on him like we did."

"What's he look like?" Ori asked, not looking up from where he'd been staring at the table. "I don't think you've ever said."

Fili shrugged. "A bit bigger than us. Black hair and beard, but the top of his head is bald."

"He's got tattoos," Kili added. "I think he said that he'd started getting them after Azanulbizar and a few other things that've happened to our people. He said that one of them was about Erebor but he'd gotten that one later, right?"

The brothers kept talking, with Ori mentally filling in the picture as they spoke, and when they finally finished, he was almost positive that if he pulled out his soulspoken drawings, Fili and Kili would recognize him instantly.

His soulmate's name was Dwalin. He almost wanted to say it out loud, let it roll around on his tongue. Then he had the strangest idea.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” he asked with a sudden frown, trying to place it and failing.

“He’s part of the city watch here,” Kili offered. “He’s a captain. Maybe you’ve run into him before?”

Ori continued to frown and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so?”

“He fought in the Battle of Azanulbizar,” Fili said. “And he was alive during the sacking of Erebor. I think he was also part of the royal guard before the dragon came.”

“Didn’t he train Uncle Thorin?” Kili asked. “I seem to remember him actually saying that once.”

Fili shook his head. “I think he said that they were trained together.” He shrugged and turned back to Ori. “Don’t you know him? He’s Balin's younger brother, after all.”

Ori blinked. “Uh, no,” he said awkwardly. “I hadn’t realized...”

Dwalin, son of Fundin. Balin’s younger brother. Kin to Thorin Oakenshield, if he remembered the few conversations he’d had with his master about their respective families correctly.

This wasn’t just some weapons master that Fili and Kili happened to be training with. Dwalin was highly respected. A valiant warrior, if he’d survived Azanulbizar. He was much older than Ori, too, if he’d been a soldier more than sixty years ago.

"How old is he?" Ori blurted out.

Kili stopped mid-sentence, looking at Ori with some surprise. "Who?"

"Mister Dwalin," Ori answered. "Sorry about interrupting."

The brothers ignored the apology, turning to each other with thinking frowns. "How old would you say he was, Fili?"

Fili narrowed his eyes. "I think he's around a hundred-and-fifty, maybe a little younger. He was alive when Erebor fell, I know that much."

There was a numb kind of satisfaction in knowing that Dori had been right. "So, what's he like?" When Ori realized how the question sounded, he shook his head. "I mean, you've already talked about what he's like as a teacher. What's Mister Dwalin like as a dwarf?"

The brothers traded another look, this time confused and curious, before turning back to him. "Why do you want to know?" Kili asked.

Ori shrugged, trying to think fast. "You two are always complaining about him, but if he's Balin's brother, maybe he's nice underneath all of the..." His voice trailed off uncertainly when he saw the stunned looks on their faces.

And then the brothers started laughing out loud.

"Dwalin? Nice?" Kili let out another peal of laughter. "Well, he’s not _mean_. He just never says anything to us except, ‘This time, pivot your hips’."

Ori turned to Fili, who nodded in agreement. "He really doesn't talk much, even with Uncle Thorin, and the two of them have been friends for decades."

"He has friends?" Ori asked blankly.

Fili shrugged. "I think that if he says more than five words to you, and he's not barking orders at you to do it again, faster, you're a friend."

Kili giggled. "I wonder what he'd be like with a lover!"

Fili, who'd just started to take another pull from his tankard, choked, spat what he'd had in his mouth back into his cup, and laughed out loud.

Ori managed a smile when Fili glanced at him, but he felt the pit of his stomach turning.

_What's he going to be like with his soulmate?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a fond thank-you to ForAllLove, Elsajeni, and now the lovely Penniform! Thank you for making this fic better than it would've been!
> 
> Okay, so my big sister's been teasing me about the fact that this fic still doesn't have a title. And seeing as how I haven't thought of anything that feels like it fits, do you guys have any ideas?


	14. Many-Sided Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing is believing, but actually _talking_ to him...
> 
> Well, it's something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has very lovely artwork by [nerdeeart](http://nerdeeart.tumblr.com), which can be found [here](http://nerdeeart.tumblr.com/post/107758382441/a-precious-little-moment-from-the-wonderful).
> 
> Warning! It is utterly adorable, and very lovely. :D
> 
> If you have a tumblr and like their work, reblog it! If you don't have one, send them an ask and let them know!

After burying himself in work for a few days, Ori realized that he really _was_ acting like a scared dwarfling over this soulmate business. He hadn’t gotten drunk that night with Fili and Kili, but he had told himself that he just needed time to think things over before he made a decision.

When “time to think things over” closed in on a week, Ori rolled his eyes, fed up at himself.

Yes, he was scrawny, and fifty-seven, and as much as he hated to admit it, older dwarves would continue to mistake him for being younger than he was until his beard fully grew in. It was a little unavoidable at this point, sadly. And there was nothing he could do in terms of respectability -- whether his family’s, his own, his profession’s, or whatever. And it wasn’t like being a scribe was all that bad to begin with. He just needed to finish his apprenticeship. His soulmate wouldn’t sneer at that, would he? Even the great warriors sung about in myths and legends were apprentices at some point.

If he was going to be a dwarf that his soulmate could be proud of, he needed to prove that he wouldn’t hide in a corner. His soulmate was Dwalin, son of Fundin. He deserved better than a coward.

With his mind made up, he finished his work in Balin’s office for the day, and set off to find Dwalin to introduce himself properly.

Maybe Dwalin wasn’t quite so... intimidating, after all. They just had to get to know each other a little better. Preferably sometime when Dwalin didn’t have to fend off attacks from two over-enthusiastic apprentices. The thought cheered Ori immensely.

The thought soured almost immediately when it took Ori nearly another week in order to figure out _where_ to find Dwalin. And by that point, Ori was more willing to give him a piece of his mind than he had been before.

Finally, he ended up taking lunch with him to the Central Meatgrinder just about every day until Fili and Kili were training with Dwalin again. (He knew that he could've just asked them when their next training session was, but it would've gotten the two curious, and Ori was fairly sure that curious princes of Erebor were more dangerous than a regiment of the city watch. Or was that a battalion?)

As it was, the two were glad of Ori's presence, and more than a little eager to show off what they'd been learning. The weapons masters he traded polite nods with didn’t mind him there, for the most part. Ori figured that, as long as he didn’t try to distract Fili and Kili from their training, his presence would be tolerated, which was just fine by him.

So, it was on a fairly typical day that Ori walked out to the training ground, waved to Fili and Kili, and was about to nod politely to the weapons master when his mouth went dry, and he promptly tripped over his own feet.

He heard a chuckle or two from some of the trainees as he righted himself and tried to look like he meant to have a moment of gracelessness before he hurried over to his usual spot against one wall, just the right distance from the training to be able to see what was happening without the risk of injury. Sitting down and leaning back against the wall, he tried not to think about the fact that Dwalin was standing a few feet away, his attention focused on the trainees.

Ori tried to turn his attention to Fili and Kili, who were laughing and goofing around with some of the younger trainees, Kili showing off a flourish or two with the wooden sword in his right hand, but soon, his gaze would drift back to strong shoulders, muscular arms folded over a broad chest, and feet planted firmly enough on the ground that Ori thought they wouldn’t move in a gale unless Dwalin wished it.

He suddenly realized that his sandwich he’d been half-heartedly eating had squeezed out from between the slices of bread, fish covering his hands and making him wince. He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that sounded like Dori, telling him that he should’ve been more careful when making the sandwich that morning, but it was difficult to get the right amount of filling and tidiness. When he found that he’d forgotten a spare cloth to wipe his hands with, he turned his attention back to the dwarves on the training ground, and mentally sighed as he started licking his hands to clean up the mess.

When Ori’s eyes drifted over to Dwalin again, carefully licking at the web between his thumb and index finger, he found blue eyes glaring back at him.

Ori nearly looked away -- his stomach was twisting, he _still_ didn’t feel anywhere near ready for this to happen now, here of all places -- but then, something miraculous happened.

He got annoyed.

He’d finally worked up the nerve to try to find Dwalin, only to be kept waiting for days for his soulmate to decide to show himself at the training ground, and what did he get? A tall, _silent_ soulmate who could easily be mistaken for a mountain who was now glaring at him as if _he’d_ been the one to do something wrong. He hadn’t been chased off of the training ground by any of the weapons masters in the past week, and he was _certainly_ allowed to eat his lunch while he was there, even if Kili always tried to make sad puppy eyes at him to try to get a bite.

Dwalin turned back to the trainees without any indication that he’d acknowledged his presence.

That was the last straw.

Scowling, he set the rest of his lunch sack down next to him with the air of a dwarf about to enter the field of battle. Of course, it was immediately ruined when he got to his feet, and he had to dust himself off, but there was no way he was going to introduce himself to his soulmate looking dusty -- Dori would’ve had a fit if he knew.

Either way, annoyed stubbornness got him to his feet, and now he was standing next to Dwalin, decidedly _not_ looking at him, and unconsciously folding his arms across his chest in the same way Dwalin was. When he realized what had happened, he unfolded his arms, sucked on his pinky finger that still had a little bit of fish left, and tried to figure out how to hold his arms in such a way that he didn’t look silly, which only made him feel even sillier.

Standing next to Dwalin felt a bit odd, especially given that the dwarf was taller than him by at least six inches, if not more. Glancing at his profile from a closer vantage point, Ori blinked when something occurred to him.

“Your eyes are blue.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t the greatest conversational gambit in the world, but the words _did_ manage to get Dwalin to look at him, even if he was scowling a silent demand at Ori to explain what the hell he was talking about.

“Your eyes--” Ori stuttered, remembering a guard that he passed on the street to the tailor shop where Dori worked. “I knew what color your eyes were. You’re the guard who--”

“Ori!” Kili shouted. “Hey, Ori! Over here!”

Ori turned, seeing Kili waving his arm to catch his attention, and was more than happy to end the embarrassingly one-sided conversation right there. “Excuse me--” he said quickly to Dwalin before making his way over to Kili. _’Your eyes’,_ he thought bitterly to himself as he walked, _What kind of stupid thing to say is that? Of course he knows his eyes are blue, and he’d know if he were the guard I bumped into on the street._

He found himself looking over his shoulder at Dwalin, only to find those intense, blue eyes following him across the training ground, his dark eyebrows lowered in a scowl. For a moment, he looked down at himself, at the cardigan Dori had knitted for him a year ago, the trousers that were looking a little threadbare, and the shoes that were comfortably lived-in, though ready to fall apart if someone looked at them the wrong way. Then he scowled back at Dwalin.

 _If he doesn’t like what he sees, he doesn’t have to keep looking, does he?_ he thought to himself darkly before turning to Kili and smiling politely as he was introduced to what felt like a regiment of trainees. Or maybe it was a platoon.

All too soon, just as he was shaking hands with another dwarf and smiling politely, there was someone clearing their throat right behind him that reminded Ori uncomfortably of Balin.

“Last I checked,” came a rough, low voice that hushed all of the trainees in moments, “we were supposed to be training.”

Kili looked at the dwarf standing right behind Ori’s shoulder, the grin slipping off his face. “I was just introducing Ori around--” He turned to Ori. “Ori, have you had a chance to meet our weapons master--”

Ori turned around to stare up into intense, blue eyes. “We’ve met,” he murmured when Dwalin didn’t open his mouth.

Hours later, he was going to marvel at how calm he was, how solid he felt at that moment. But all he could do was stare at his soulmate. After weeks of staring at sketches that dared him to act, he’d made his move. Now it was time for Dwalin to make his.

Dwalin’s lips quirked into something that could’ve been an sour smirk on someone else’s face, sparing Ori a glance before looking over at Kili. “Get the lads lined up.” With that, he turned on his heel and stomped back to where he’d been standing.

Ori gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw hurt. If looks could kill, the one he was aiming at Dwalin’s back would’ve felled him at fifty paces, no matter how strong he was.

“Ori?” Fili asked, looking surprised.

Ori glanced at him, shaking his head firmly. “I’m fine. I need to get back to Master Balin anyway.”

“Will we see you at the pub later?” Kili asked quickly.

“We’ll see,” Ori grunted. “Don’t get in trouble with your master on my account.”

He’d stomped back to Balin’s office before he realized that he’d left the remainder of his lunch behind at the training ground, but given how angry he felt, he knew he would have to wait until Fili and Kili were finished using the training ground before he could go back and get it without embarrassing himself.

Balin raised an eyebrow when he saw Ori’s angry entrance. “Something bothering you, lad?”

Ori glanced over at him before making his way over to his desk. He was about to snap about the rudeness of soulmates when he remembered that his master was his soulmate’s older brother. “Just-- bumped into someone who was rude about telling me to get out of his way,” he grumbled half-heartedly.

Balin nodded. “He was probably preoccupied with something. Pay it no mind.”

 _I’m_ sure _he was preoccupied,_ Ori thought sourly. “He didn’t have to be an ass about it.”

He hadn’t meant for his master to hear, but it still happened. “There are some dwarves who aren’t born communicators like the both of us,” he said with a smile. “He’ll get his comeuppance soon enough.”

Ori nodded, settling himself in his seat before Balin cleared his throat.

“A cup of tea, if you wouldn’t mind, lad?” Balin asked with a smile.

Ori couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small chuckle as he remembered the first full day of his apprenticeship, when he’d discovered that his very first task as Balin’s student was to make and fetch his tea. After weeks of working together, it’d become something of a joke between them.. “But I just sat down, Master.”

“Aye, and you’ll be able to sit again after you fetch it.”

Ori sighed theatrically before getting up from his chair. “Fetch this, Ori. Copy over this page, Ori. Learn this script, Ori,” he pretended to complain as he got up from his chair and poured out two cups of tea from the tea tray. “You’d think I was back with my older brother again.”

Balin snorted. “You can’t fool me, lad. I saw how excited you were when I gave you that version of illuminated Cirth to learn. At least I won’t have to worry about what to give you for your birthday.”

Ori brought Balin’s tea over to him before clapping a hand to his chest and giving his master wide, brown eyes. “You’re not going to give me a commemorative quill and parchment? Why, Master, I’m hurt!” He broke character for a moment to sip his tea. “However will I know that you value and appreciate me?”

“Spoken like a true younger brother,” Balin said with a chuckle. “All right, then, how about I take you to see a paper mill after you visit your brother?”

This time, Ori’s eyes widened in genuine delighted surprise. “Really?”

Balin laughed again, but this time, he looked more fond of his student. “I don’t see why not. You have to learn all the parts of the process, not just the writing aspect. You’ll be seeing Dori in a few days, won’t you?”

“Day after tomorrow.” Ori nodded before adding softly, “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Balin shot his student a faintly displeased look. “You should ask me to visit him more often. Even if he’s old enough to look after himself, he’ll appreciate seeing you.”

“Is it like that with you and your brother?” Ori asked before he could stop himself.

Balin snorted. “Hardly. Dwalin would rather fight a platoon of orcs single-handedly before he’d admit to missing me.”

Ori frowned, a bit disappointed despite how annoyed he still was with Dwalin. For some reason, he’d assumed that he was more openly affectionate towards his brother, but apparently not. “Oh.”

Balin shook his head. “Each pair of brothers is different, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he said dismissively. “Now, back to work with you. I expect to see five pages before the hour’s up.”

Ori glanced at the clock, and then hurried back to his seat.

***

Two days later, Ori was forced to admit that there was something... different from the last time he’d wandered the marketplace by himself. He wasn’t able to put his finger on it when he first got there, weaving through the vendors and shops, but the more time he spent there, the more urgently he wanted to find Dori and get home.

 _If there’s too many people milling around, keep an eye on your purse,_ Nori’s advice came to him with a bittersweet pang. _If they’re all talking at once, keep an ear out. It’s usually a sign that trouble’s nearby._

“Criminals haven’t been moving about lately, which is just fine, if you ask me,” a dwarrowdam selling her wares said to one of her customers. “But better the devil you can see than the one that’s hiding.”

“There’s disappearances going on,” a rough-looking miner was saying to another, “And if you report it to the Watch, then there’s just more of them.”

Ori noticed a uniformed guard on the street, but when he aimed a startled glance to the guard’s beard, he noticed salt-and-pepper locks woven together in an intricate design, along with the guard’s slight potbelly. He firmly told himself that he wasn’t disappointed.

The guard nodded to him, so it was only polite to nod back, even as he quickened his pace a little. _Nobody knows who’s safe to trust,_ he told himself. _Not even Dori or Nori know. I need to be careful about whose attention I catch._

When he remembered Dwalin in the guard uniform (and firmly told himself not to think about how the uniform showed off his shoulders and chest), he sighed. _But if I can’t trust him, who can I trust?_

The trouble was, he wasn’t going to get the answers walking down the street, and he was wasting time he could be spending with Dori. As much as he tried not to think about it, he would find himself thinking about his eldest brother sometimes -- about how he’d worry most nights when Nori didn’t come home, how he’d yell when Ori got himself lost when he was younger. Dori was the kind of dwarf meant to have a big family, with a loving wife and at least a few children who would look up to him and want to be like him, even if he _was_ fussy.

Ori made his way into the tailor shop in time to see a dwarf with a fairly nasty scar on his face on his way out of the shop. He bit down a snide remark about manners when the dwarf pushed past him, but when he saw the young apprentice at the counter, he hurried forward.

“Are you all right?”

The dwarf behind the counter cleared his throat and shook his head. “It’s fine. Just lost a sale is all,” he managed with a shaky voice. When he noticed who he was talking to, he shook his head. “Here for Dori, then? He’s gone home, I’m afraid.”

Ori frowned. “Home?”

The dwarf shrugged. “Master Loni gave him the rest of the day off.”

“He didn’t get let go, did he?” Ori asked, panic starting to rise.

“Huh? Oh, no! Not at all! He just had a bit of an argument with a...” He hesitated before finishing with, “Potential customer.”

Ori’s eyes narrowed. “Like the one that just left.”

The dwarf sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s been some dangerous types hanging around the past few days, and they’ve definitely been eyeing Dori. He’s still got his job, but if they keep showing up here, Master Loni might have to do something.”

Ori sighed carefully before he nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The apprentice nodded. “Right.”

With a sinking feeling, Ori headed home.

Just as he was about to unlock the front door, the door was flung wide open, revealing two dwarves in their late-forties (from what little Ori could see) barreling out of the door and chorusing, “Thanks for the bread, Mister Dori, sir!” before they were running down the corridor like wargs were chasing them. Blinking a few times and wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, Ori gingerly stepped inside to find a third dwarf, maybe a few years older than the ones that had just run off, standing in the living room and glaring in the direction of the kitchen. 

When they locked eyes, the dwarf frowned at him. When Ori didn’t immediately do anything other than hesitantly wave, he shouted towards the kitchen, “Some tosh’s here to see you, Mister Dori, sir!”

“What do you mean by ‘tosh’?” Dori came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. When he saw Ori standing rooted to the spot at the doorway, he grinned. “Ori! I wasn’t expecting you until later! Come in, come in -- Nidi, where did the other two go? -- how’ve you been?”

“All right?” Ori said uncertainly, still looking at Nidi. “What’s going on...? Did you adopt...?” He wasn’t even sure he could finish the question.

“Adopt?” Dori frowned. “What’re you talking about?”

Ori looked back at Nidi, and then at the open door before turning a bewildered look to his brother.

Dori shot Nidi an exasperated look. “Why I even bother to make supper for those two is beyond me.”

Nidi shrugged. “They probably went to tell the others.” He stared openly at Ori, looking him up and down.

Dori smacked him on the back of the head. “It’s not polite to stare. If you want his name, you’d better offer yours first.”

Nidi shot an impressive scowl at Dori as he rubbed the back of his head. “Why should I?”

“Because it’s polite,” Dori said quellingly. “Ori, close the door, would you? You’re going to let in a draft.”

Ori closed the door, still in shock at the idea that three dwarves had appeared in Dori’s home, and Dori didn’t mind. “What’s going on?”

Dori snorted. “They’re Nori’s.”

At Ori’s shocked look, Nidi scowled. “No, we’re not,” he grumbled. “He only looked after us, is all.”

“You’re as much his as Ori is mine,” Dori said firmly. “Now, if you want to eat, you know the rules. Wash your face, wash your hands, clean under your fingernails, and don’t let me catch you trying to stuff any bread down your trousers when I’m not looking. It’s unsanitary, and it makes you look ridiculous.”

Nidi rolled his eyes before turning to Ori. “Was he this much of a pain when you lived here?”

Ori tried to keep from smiling by biting his lips, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t working, judging by the look on Dori’s face. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

Nidi snorted at Dori. “Got him well-trained, yeah? You’re not doing that to _me_ , Mister Dori, sir.”

“How do you know I haven’t trained you already?” Dori asked mildly. “Off to the bathroom with you. You know where it is.”

As Nidi headed to the bathroom, Ori turned to Dori. “What in the world is he doing here?” he asked, absolutely mystified.

“Getting a bite to eat, what else?” Dori replied. “He and the other two that were here live on the streets. Apparently, our dear brother told them if they needed a place to stay or something to eat, they could come to me.”

Ori blinked a few times. “Why?” He wasn’t surprised that Dori had taken care of them -- his eldest brother took care of him and Nori like other dwarves practiced their crafts -- but finding out that Nori was willing to take dwarflings who weren’t related to him under his wing was something else entirely.

“Why else?” Dori snorted. “Nori wanted to fob them off on me when he skipped town, no doubt. At least the little buggers won’t get caught by the Watch because they were desperate enough to do anything for a hot meal.”

Ori shook his head. “Not that. I mean, why would Nori look after them in the first place?”

Dori sighed. “Why does our brother do anything? Maybe they worked for him -- they do a bit of spying or what have you, and in return, he showed them where to go to be safe. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Ori frowned. He was fairly sure that wasn’t the reason why -- at least, not entirely -- but seeing as how he couldn’t think of a better explanation, he kept his mouth shut. “What’s for dinner?”

“Stew, and if you want any, you’d best clean yourself up as well.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Nidi inhaling his portions as fast as he was served them. In between admonitions for Nidi to “slow down, the whole pot’s not going to disappear in two seconds”, Dori ended up asking about Ori’s progress in his apprenticeship.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Dori said. “I was worried something might’ve happened, given that the last time you showed up here, you were about half-drowned in an ale barrel.”

Ori couldn’t help blushing. “Sorry.”

Nidi perked up at this. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” Dori snapped.

Nidi glared at him. “How come? You’re talking about it at the table. That makes it fair game.” He turned to Ori. “Why’d you get drunk?”

Ori shrugged. “I thought my apprenticeship was going really badly, and that my master was about to kick me out. Turns out that I was wrong.”

Nidi looked surprised for a moment before he affected an indifferent look. “Oh, that’s all?” Then he went back to his stew.

“Well, what about you, then?” Ori asked. “How come you’re living on the streets?”

Nidi glared at him. “What’s it to you? You gonna turn me over to the Watch?”

Ori blinked. “Why would I? You haven’t hurt me or my brother, and you haven’t stolen anything. At least, I don’t think you have.” When Nidi didn’t look particularly moved by this argument, he shrugged. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. I was just curious, is all.”

Nidi scowled at him for a long moment before returning to shoveling food into his mouth.

Ori mentally shrugged before turning back to Dori. “Have you noticed anything... odd lately?”

It was Dori’s turn to scowl. “What do you mean?”

Ori checked a sigh. “There were all kinds of people talking in the market about how something’s about to happen, what with Kollr and--” He stopped himself when he noticed Nidi’s eyes staring at him intently. And then an idea occurred to him. “Well, you might know better than Dori might, actually.”

Nidi blinked, looking surprised when Ori shifted in his chair to face him more directly. He swallowed his mouthful, spilling a little onto his fuzzy cheeks, and glared at Ori while cradling his bowl protectively. “Know about what?”

Ori mentally sighed. “Something’s happening on the street. You can almost feel it in the market. Kollr’s got something planned, doesn’t he?”

“Ori, I’ll not have you acting like your good-for-nothing brother,” Dori growled. “Nidi, you don’t have to answer that.”

Nidi, however, was staring intently at Ori. “What makes you think _I’d_ know anything?” Despite the way he phrased the question, he looked more curious than offended.

“Nori was looking out for us,” Ori said honestly. “And since he’s not here anymore to let us know anything, I thought since you knew him, he might have taught you to keep your ears open.”

“If I wasn’t about to allow Nori to corrupt you, I’m certainly not about to let you--” Dori began.

“It’ll cost you,” Nidi said quickly.

Ori’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dori barked. Turning narrowed eyes on Nidi, he declared. “You, eat your stew and don’t you dare bring up that business again in my house. I didn’t tolerate it from Nori, I’ll not tolerate it from you.” He turned to Ori, punctuating his argument with his spoon. “And you. If there’s anything of that sort happening, you’re going to keep your nose out of it. Keep working on your apprenticeship, and for Mahal’s sake, don’t you dare think about using Nori’s underground network in some misguided attempt to keep me safe. If there’s going to be any protecting around here, it’s going to be the other way ‘round, got it?”

Ori frowned. “Dori, Nori’s gone, and it’s not like I have so many brothers that I can afford to lose one.”

“Which is why you’re going to concentrate on your apprenticeship, you hear me?” Dori growled.

Ori rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man,” Dori snapped. “It’s for your own good to stay well out of it.”

“I might not have much of a choice,” Ori muttered under his breath. When he glanced over at Nidi, he noticed the other dwarf listening intently.

“Eh? What do you mean by that?” Dori asked suspiciously.

Ori looked straight at Nidi. _You’re not fooling me,_ he told the dwarf silently. He wasn’t sure if Nidi got the message though. “Later, Dori.”

Dori glanced between the two of them before shooting his little brother a look that said that the wait had better be worth it. Then he went back to eating his stew.

When they finished dinner, Ori was surprised when Nidi took the plates to the kitchen sink and then headed for the bathroom. “Takin’ a bath, Mister Dori, sir,” he announced breezily as he went, leaving Ori to look at his older brother in surprise.

“What?” Dori asked defensively. “You think that just because you’re averse to bathing that other dwarves aren’t?”

Ori rolled his eyes. “He got out of doing the dishes.”

“And seeing as how you’re here, you can help me out instead,” Dori announced with a big grin.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ori groaned. He followed Dori into the kitchen, and soon, they were back to their old routine of Dori washing a dish at a time while Ori dried them with a towel he found. 

Dori rolled his eyes, handing a plate to Ori. “You don’t have to sound like I’m sending you to the gallows. Surely, your master doesn’t have you cleaning out the loo or something.”

Ori shook his head, accepting it, drying it, and putting it away. “Just making tea and going on errands to fetch things.”

“See? Not a horrible taskmaster.” Dori sounded pleased with himself. “And I’m guessing that business with the page he had you copying over is done with?”

Ori ducked his head with a grimace. “I thought he was testing me, and he was trying to show me that scrivening isn’t all about copying the epics and working for royalty and whatnot.”

Dori blinked. “You could’ve told him that. The first time you brought a dusty old book home to copy, I thought you wouldn’t finish it all.”

Ori chuckled. “Nori thought I was mad, but I managed to get through the whole thing. Don’t ask me how many errors are in the copy I gave to the library, though. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Probably not as many as other scribes would’ve done,” Dori said proudly.

Ori snorted, remembering what Master Balin had said to him the day after he’d gotten drunk. It didn’t stop him smiling. “You do know that there are scribes that are better than me out there in the world, don’t you?”

Dori shrugged. “You’re my little brother, and I’m biased.”

They finished the dishes in short order, and when Dori cocked his head to one side, he frowned. "Surely, he's probably done in the bath by now --” He headed out of the kitchen, and a moment later, he said. “Oh, for Mahal's sake."

Ori poked his head out of the kitchen to see Dori reaching inside the bathroom and picking up a wet towel. “What?”

“Little bugger scarpered off,” Dori muttered. “Honestly, you’d think I was trying to lock them all in cages or something, just because I’m offering a safe place to sleep at night.”

Ori shrugged. “Maybe they’ve lived on the streets so long, they don’t know what it’s like to have a family?”

For a moment, Dori looked almost regretful before he shook his head firmly. “Well, the beds are still here if they want them, though why I’m even offering to let them stay the night is beyond me.”

Ori smiled fondly. “They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Dori led the way to the living room, where he sat himself down in his armchair. “You’re here for a few days, aren’t you, and then back to work?”

Ori nodded, sitting on the couch. “Yeah. As soon as I get back, Balin’s taking me to the paper maker’s mill. But what about you?” he asked quickly. “When did they start showing up? I would’ve noticed if they’d started appearing the first time I visited.”

“About a week or two ago, I think,” Dori said with a shrug. “The little buggers don’t stay for very long, much as I try to get them to, but Nidi will stay the night sometimes. I feed them when I can, though.”

“What was that about them being Nori’s?” Ori asked, curiosity starting to take root again now that they were fed and relaxing. “The way you were talking, it sounded like they were living on the street?”

“Nidi says he lost his parents in mining accidents when he was growing up. The others seem to have the same sort of tragic backstory, though they might’ve been telling tales to try to wrap me around their little fingers.” Dori snorted. “Looks like while Nori was getting into trouble, he found these dwarflings and helped them live lives of crime.”

“Or he could’ve been taking care of them as best he knew how,” Ori pointed out gently.

“Taking care of them would’ve been to find them good homes.” Dori scowled. “Nobody with a heart would turn away dwarflings, orphans or no.”

Ori shrugged. “I didn’t say he knew what was best for them, just the best he knew how.”

Dori snorted again. “Proof positive that Nori shouldn’t be left in charge of anyone whatsoever. How you turned out so polite and well-mannered has to be a miracle, with how much you look up to him.”

Ori smiled wryly. “He didn’t let me tag along when he got into trouble, remember?” He sighed. “I wonder what he’s doing now?”

“Probably getting into trouble somewhere else,” Dori muttered. “Speaking of which, what was all that about when you said you might not have a choice about being involved with Kollr and whatever’s going to happen?”

Ori grimaced and looked away, not wanting to meet Dori’s eyes. “I know someone who’s a guard with the Watch. If he gets in trouble--”

“Oh, no,” Dori said sharply. “Absolutely not. You need to stay safe and focus on your apprenticeship. You’re living with kin to the Line of Durin. No criminal in his right mind would go after anyone connected to Thorin Oakenshield.”

The idea of hiding behind Balin while Dwalin put himself directly in the path of danger made Ori’s heart leap into his throat. No matter how much his soulmate might be an absolute git, Ori couldn’t stop thinking about the book of soulmates whose stories ended in tragedy. The idea of letting Dwalin face that danger alone made him feel even worse.

“And how do you know that this acquaintance of yours is entirely trustworthy?” Dori demanded. “He might very well be the sort of dwarf that you shouldn’t be associating with in the first place.”

Ori frowned. “He just is.” He suddenly found himself remembering how he’d looked into Dwalin’s eyes, remembering how blue they were from bumping into him on the street. He’d been about to thank him then, for... “He warned me that Nori was in danger in the first place.”

Dori rolled his eyes. “Anyone who’s known our brother for more than five minutes could tell you that.”

Ori shook his head quickly. “No, he was the one who mentioned that Nori was crossing the wrong people.” He frowned, suddenly, remembering how the guard -- Dwalin, now -- had told Ori about Nori crossing Kollr, though Ori hadn’t known the dwarf’s name at the time. And then the time before that when they met...

“It’s him,” he said blankly as realization hit. “Mahal’s hammer, it was _him_.”

“Him?” Dori frowned. “Him who? What’re you talking about?”

“He was here,” Ori said numbly, suddenly remembering that day with surprising clarity. Three dwarves, the first with a full, black beard. The other two sneered at him for being from Erebor, but the one with the black beard had defended him, as much as anyone could really defend him in that situation. “That one time the three guards came. He was one of the guards.”

“Ori, what are you talking about?” Dori snapped, irritated with Ori’s babbling.

“Dwalin,” Ori answered quickly. “He was here.” Another thought suddenly occurred to him. “Could that have been why I started soulspeaking? Because I met him?”

“Dwalin? Soulspeaking?” Dori frowned. “Ori, start from the top. What happened?”

Ori shook his head. “I met my soulmate. I didn’t know it at the time, but I met him when he came looking for Nori.”

Dori’s eyes widened. “You what?”

Ori huffed a sigh. “I met my soulmate when he was here, trying to arrest--”

“He’s a _guard_?”

Ori fought especially hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, he is,” he said before he realized how that would sound. “But he’s not like that! We can trust him!”

“Oh, of course,” Dori said sarcastically. “Because he’s your soulmate, you can trust him not to sell us out to Kollr or Solvi.”

“Why would he warn me Nori was getting into trouble--” When he saw Dori’s unimpressed look, he hastily amended, “Well, more trouble than he’s normally in. The point is, why bother to warn me? It’s not like I was in a position to do anything about it, especially with you hanging over me like a gargoyle.”

Dori swelled up, starting to turn colors. “You’ll recall that Nori thought it was a ploy to get him out of hiding,” he said, his voice getting dangerously low.

“Dwalin wouldn’t do that,” Ori said impatiently. “I might not know him very well, but I can tell that much about him.”

That seemed to cut Dori’s offended anger off at the knees. “Who’s this Dwalin you keep referring to?”

“My soulmate,” Ori replied impatiently. “Dwalin, son of Fundin.”

If Dori had been slowly turning purple at the idea that Ori had accused him of being overprotective, this new revelation had him looking like he’d been punched in the gut. “Dwalin?” he asked blankly.

“Err, yes,” Ori replied, suddenly feeling a bit awkward for dropping this information on him without any sort of warning. “Dori...?”

“Your soulmate is Dwalin, son of Fundin?” Dori asked weakly.

Ori nodded.

“Kin to Thorin Oakenshield?” Dori asked in that same weak tone.

Ori nodded again.

“And he’s a guard on the city watch,” Dori said.

Ori nodded yet again. “Now do you believe me that we can trust him?” he asked gently.

Dori looked like he was going to snort, but he somehow managed to contain it. “You don’t know him.”

Ori blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Dori’s voice sharpened. The frown he aimed at Ori was supposed to be his cue to drop the subject, but Ori frowned back at him.

“I know I don’t know him, but what is it that I don’t know about him?” Ori asked. He stopped for a moment and then shook his head. “What _should_ I know about him? Why shouldn’t I trust him?” When Dori didn’t answer, Ori gritted his teeth. “Dori, he’s my soulmate. I have at least ten sketches in my notebook that prove it. If there’s something I need to know about him, _tell me_.”

When Dori finally responded, it was with an explosion of anger. “If he’s so trustworthy, why don’t you ask him! He would know the details _far_ better than I would!”

Ori flinched for a moment before what Dori said sank in. “Something happened...” he murmured. “Something... bad?”

Dori took a deep breath, and visibly made an effort to control himself. When he spoke, he sounded less like he was fully in control, and more like he was still having to keep himself tightly leashed. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned it in the first place. It’s not my story to tell.” When Ori opened his mouth to say something, Dori shot him a quelling look. “If you want details, go ask Dwalin.”

“What do I ask him?” Ori asked softly.

Dori snorted, a sour smile twisting his lips. “I daresay he’ll know what you’re asking about.”


	15. An Awkward Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori's been fairly good about keeping his soulspeaking private.
> 
> Remember what happens when you try to keep a secret?

The rest of Ori’s visit passed in relative calm as soon as the brothers calmed down, and sure enough, two days later, Ori was heading back to his apprenticeship with a lighter spring in his step, even if couldn’t stop thinking about what Dori had hinted at about Dwalin’s past. If Dwalin proved to be as unapproachable as he had the first time Ori had tried to talk to him, Ori was likely never going to learn anything about the dwarf directly.

Balin welcomed him back with an approving nod and questions after Dori’s health, and things were starting to look better than they had the last time Ori deliberately visited his brother.

Inevitably, that’s when the headache began.

It started out a slight pain at one temple, along with the urge to set quill to parchment, but Ori had dismissed it as wanting to lose himself in busy work. He hadn’t had a chance to get any writing or sketching done while he was visiting Dori, so it was inevitable that he’d want to start back with it when he returned to Balin.

As soon as he returned his things to his room, Ori found Balin waiting for him.

“The paper mill has a tight schedule to keep,” Balin explained as they left his office and navigated the labyrinth of corridors that led them back to the mountain proper. As they left the halls the Line of Durin resided in, Ori was surprised to find that there were two guards stationed at the entrance, helms covering their faces, but revealing braided beards of grey and cinnamon. They nodded politely to Balin and focused their attention on Ori as master and student left. Even with the headache, Ori couldn’t help but look back at them.

“Master?” he asked, wincing a little as the sounds of the busier corridors of the mountain grew louder. “Who were they?”

“Didn’t you see their uniforms, lad?” Balin asked, shooting him a confused frown.

“I did,” Ori said, “but the entrance isn’t usually guarded. At least,” he added quickly, “it usually isn’t when I return from visiting Dori.”

“Oh, it is,” Balin corrected him. “They just usually stay in the guardhouse near the entrance unless something’s happening that they need to be present for. I’m not sure what’s happening, but if Thorin’s tightening the defenses around our halls, he must be anticipating trouble.”

Ori glanced at his master. “Trouble with Kollr Longshanks?”

Balin raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t look entirely surprised. “I’d advise not using that name in public, if I were you. You never know whose ears are likely to hear you.”

Ori frowned, but nodded carefully.

***

It took a full hour of walking in order to get to the paper mill, and with each step, Ori’s headache was steadily getting worse. By the time he was staring at the outside of the paper mill, he had an impressive pounding going behind his eyes, and the smell was enough to make his stomach twist. From the look of it, the paper mill didn’t seem to be an overly-large facility, but as Balin and Ori made their way inside, the mill seemed to expand in front of Ori’s eyes.

Machinery whistled, chugged, and groaned while it worked, forcing Ori to set his jaw against a new wave of pain. Workers ran along metal scaffolding in order to check on the machines, yelling to each other over the shrieks of steam and chugging of pistons. Metal vats were nearly everywhere the eye could see -- at least, it looked that way to Ori.

“Balin!” A voice called, and soon, a dwarf with a beard that was more salt than pepper joined them, walking quickly on legs shorter than Ori’s in order to reach them. “There you are!” he shouted over the noise, “I was wondering when you were going to show up!”

“My apologies, Dakhin, my student was visiting his family before he returned.” He patted Ori’s shoulder a little more strongly than Ori would have liked, but Ori merely winced and found himself reaching into his cardigan’s pocket.

When his fingers curled around a quill he’d left in there by accident, he had to shake his head to clear it. He could feel the urge to write, even though there weren’t any scraps of paper nearby that he could use.

After Balin and Dakhin exchanged a few more pleasantries, the three of them were off on a tour of the mill.

If the first sight of the mill had been impressive, the rest of it was nearly breathtaking (and not just because of the smell). There were separate areas -- first, where rags were shoveled into vats filled with water. A network of tubes ran to another section, emptying into more vats where large wire frames were dipped into the pulp, and then lifted out to reveal that the frame was completely covered in wet pulp and laid on a conveyor belt. The three of them followed the process of the frames -- Dakhin called them something, but he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly -- and soon, they were in another area where frames filled with paper were in various states of dryness.

When Ori saw a stack of crisp, clean paper, he found himself staring at it until Balin was shaking his shoulder gently, which set his headache twinging harder. “Lad? Are you all right?”

Ori nodded, trying not to wince. “Yes, Master, I’m sorry. All of the paper...” He gestured uselessly at the stacks of paper, and saw Balin smile mischievously.

“Maybe if Dakhin wouldn’t mind, we can take some home with us,” Balin said with a wink.

Ori smiled a bit sheepishly, even though he could feel some strain in it.

When he saw an apprentice carefully checking wire frames and peeling away large sheets of paper, Ori reached into his pocket again, nearly removing the quill. Glancing around to see that Balin and Dakhin were busy talking and laughing nearby, but hadn’t seen what his hand was doing, he suddenly realized what was happening, and started to panic.

Mum had had tremendous headaches, Dori had said, because she tried to stave off soulspeakings. What Dori hadn’t mentioned was the _need_ to pick up a quill -- or probably in Mum’s case, a hammer -- in order to let it out. _He also hadn’t mentioned that they could strike when he wasn’t working on his craft,_ Ori thought sourly to himself. If he’d known that, he could’ve better prepared himself.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled his neck and deliberately uncurled his fingers, letting go of the quill in his pocket. Removing his hand with care, he firmly admonished himself that now was _definitely_ not the time to start looking for a bottle of ink, just so that he could scribble all over freshly-made paper and parchment. The very last thing he needed was his master and dwarves he didn’t know staring at Dwalin’s face because he couldn’t control himself.

Taking a deep breath, Ori straightened his shoulders and rolled his neck, gasping at the sharp pain that lanced up his spine and into his head. Gritting his teeth only made the pain worse, as though there were daggers attached to the teeth on his bottom jaw, stabbing into his cheekbones and temple. _I just have to last a few more hours,_ he thought to himself almost desperately. _We’ll go back to the office, I’ll beg off to go to bed early, and then I can get this out of my system._

Mahal, Ori was positive, was dead set on making those last hours the worst he’d ever suffered in his relatively short life. Even the hangover had been easier than suffering through the headache, because while the effects of the hangover diminished inch by inch throughout the day, the headache only intensified, his fingers twitching around the quill in his pocket so often he was sure he was mangling the feather to shreds.

An hour after that later -- in between marveling over how watermarks were created and examining the design the mill used for its own watermark -- Ori began hoping that Mahal would be merciful and just take him to the Halls of Waiting now, if only to end the pain. Each time he moved his head more than an inch, it would send a spike of agony ricocheting through his skull, and even down the upper third of his spine. He remembered smiling politely at Dakhin throughout the description of how parchment makers stretched animal skin using a system of pegs and twine stretched around wooden frames -- he really would have appreciated learning that there were ways of telling which parts of the animal had been used in the parchment-making process, truly -- but the headache was growing so foul that he was feeling even more sick to his stomach than when they’d first arrived.

The one time he tried cradling his head only aggravated the pain further, with points of torture driving into his head where his fingers and palms touched his cheeks or braced against his scalp. And even when he left his head alone, it still felt like it was slowly cracking down the middle and ready to fall open at any moment.

Finally, it got to the point where Balin couldn’t ignore his pained silence anymore, and was giving him worried looks in between chatting with Dakhin. He smiled an apology before leaning in close to Ori.

“Lad, you look like death warmed over,” Balin murmured, which started another wave of pain to start from Ori’s ears and lance over his skin. “We can leave now, and come back another time.”

Despite the twisting of his stomach, Ori felt panic set in. He needed to have something to distract himself from the soulspeaking that was definitely not pleased at not having a ready outlet. If they headed back, it was entirely possible that he might be unable to keep from sitting at his desk, no matter how much he wanted to find a dark corner to die in. And he didn’t want to think about what he would do as soon as he sat down. Maybe he could plead for Balin to let him lie down, and he could soulspeak in the safety of his room.

As much as he hated to leave -- if he was in a better state of mind, he would’ve been able to better appreciate the trip -- he needed to go. Soulspeaking in public wasn’t something he even wanted to contemplate. Gritting his teeth to brace himself against the pain, Ori nodded once. “Please, Master. I’m sorry.”

Balin narrowed his eyes at him before nodding once. “I’ll give my apologies to Dakhin, and we’ll be off.”

Ori closed his eyes, trying to calm the rolling in his stomach while trying not to imagine that his head was slowly being split in two from the inside. Mercifully soon, though, he felt Balin’s warm hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him out of the paper mill, and back to the outskirts of Ered Luin.

Ori tried to keep his eyes open, but for the most part, he felt himself being led through pockets of noise and quiet while his feet dragged. He opened his eyes a few times -- there was still that sense of foreboding that seemed to linger in the air. Sometimes, he would see city watch guards who eyed him or ignored him. Soon, the guards he was seeing were the ones standing at the entrance to the home of the Line of Durin. The two eyed him before trading a look and nodding the pair of them inside without any questions.

A few more twists and turns, and what felt like another eternity of walking, and the next time Ori opened his eyes, they were stepping inside Balin’s office.

“You should go lay down, lad,” Balin murmured gently as he headed for his desk. “The calligraphy can keep until the morrow. Just concentrate on getting better and--”

Ori didn’t hear the rest of what Balin had said because he saw his writing desk. More importantly, he saw the stack of crisp, clean paper on top of it. The tin cup where he kept his quills. The ink bottle that Ori had refreshed just before he’d left to visit his brother.

He made a beeline for his desk, and soon, his mind was blissfully blank. There was a quill in his hand, and the pain was _gone_.

***

"Laddie?"

Ori blinked a few times, his vision clearing to find himself staring at another sketch of Dwalin. With a sigh, he reached up to knead his screaming neck. Miraculously enough, however, the only thing that remained of the headache was a slight twinge in his stomach, and he was sure there was another reason for that entirely.

Through the long silence, Ori could feel his master watching him. When he finally spoke, his question was gentle. "Should I be congratulating you?"

Ori couldn’t stop shaking his head miserably once he started, setting the quill back in the tin cup and carefully lifting the paper. He blew carefully on the drying ink with the ease of long practice, watching as the lines didn’t shift or move. After the ink had dried, he carefully set aside the page that he'd used for the sketch.

Balin was still watching him.

"How many times does this make?"

Ori sighed through his nose. "I’ll have to double-check. There are some sketches I haven’t numbered yet. I think it’s been ten so far?"

There was a long pause. "Do you know who that is?"

Ori's face grew warm, still not meeting his master's gaze. He felt like he’d been found with his hand in the cookie jar, even if a part of him _knew_ that he hadn’t done anything wrong. "I know him by reputation," he managed. "I've... spoken to him. Once."

"I must admit... this is quite a surprise."

Somehow, Ori felt his face get hotter. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I didn't mean to--"

A large hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing once with a gentle grip. "Lad. It's all right."

Ori set his jaw, staring at the wall because he didn't want to see the look in Balin's eyes.

"How long have you known?"

Ori frowned, unable to remember off the top of his head. He carefully set the text he'd been working on aside in order to lift the lid of his writing desk. Pulling out the large book that rested on top of a stack of blank pieces of parchment, he eased the lid down and then laid the book down on top of his desk. He lifted the cover, revealing a sketch that had been preserved in a rudimentary way. Ori squinted at the date in the lower right-hand corner. "About a month before we met at the library," he replied.

He felt Balin move closer, and was sure that his master was looking over his shoulder. "Nearly four months? And you've kept them all?"

Ori nodded. "Dori said that I should keep them for a courtship present, if I ever found him." He finally looked up at his teacher, his curiosity outweighing his embarrassment. "He said that it was a tradition back in Erebor?"

"Aye." Balin nodded. "Soulspoken craft. They tend to hold significance for the pair, and would be exchanged as wedding gifts when they were joined. Sometimes, the works themselves are preserved and passed down as heirlooms."

The young dwarf's eyes slid back down to his desk, easing the cover of his sketchbook closed before setting it aside for the moment to examine the new sketch. Dwalin still stared at him, as if waiting for him to make the next move. Well, Ori had tried talking to him, and he remembered with a great deal of embarrassment how well _that_ had turned out. Coupled with whatever story it was that Dori refused to tell him, Ori felt it was high time that Dwalin made a move of his own, instead of daring him to do so. He’d made his move, and he’d gotten a less than enthusiastic response. Mahal’s beard, it hadn’t even been _polite_. He sighed heavily.

"If he keeps glaring at me like that," Ori muttered to himself, "I’ll give him a fight he’ll remember if he tries to drag me to the altar."

"Glaring at you?" Balin asked.

Ori gritted his teeth, wanting to kick himself for thinking out loud. "Sorry, Master." He made a vague gesture to the newest sketch. "It's just that... well--" He cleared his throat and shot the sketch an annoyed look. "He's never happy to see me."

Balin snorted. "He doesn't smile as freely as others, but if you know where to look, you can tell what sort of mood he's in."

Ori looked up at him, starting to feel a small thread of hope. "How?"

Balin smiled at him and leaned forward, pointing with a finger, but careful not to touch the ink. "His brows aren't furrowed, which means he's not angry. His eyes aren't squinted, which means he isn't annoyed. And he's not scowling." When Ori shot him an annoyed look, the older dwarf chuckled. "With Dwalin, it’s sometimes the things you don’t see that tell you what you’re looking at."

Ori sighed, turning back to the sketch. It figured that trying to decipher his soulmate’s facial expressions wouldn’t be easy. "Thank you, master."

There was a long pause, and Ori thought his master had returned to his desk, but then he felt Balin's hand on his shoulder again.

“Lad--” Ori turned to see that Balin was hesitating. “I’m glad to know it’s you.”

Ori felt his cheeks burn. “I... um. Thank you?” he blurted out, feeling mystified.

Balin smiled gently, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He patted Ori’s shoulder a few times. “Well, it looks like you’ve recovered. Trying to hold back the soulspeaking, were you?”

Ori cleared his throat and ducked his head. “Yes, Master. I didn’t-- I mean, I was trying not to--”

Balin shook his head. “It’s all right, lad, you don’t need to explain. If I’d discovered that my master was my soulmate’s brother, I wouldn’t have wanted to soulspeak in front of him either.”

“So...” Ori began tentatively. “You’re not...?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he ended up waving his hand around stupidly to try to get his point across.

“Angry?” Balin looked nonplussed. “That my brother has a soulmate? Why should I be?”

“Um, because I’m your student?” Ori offered, unable to stop himself from wincing.

Balin shook his head with a chuckle. “Perhaps I’m surprised at how young you are, but... let’s just say that I’m glad, and leave it at that.”

Ori frowned at him. “This isn’t going to be one of those things that I’ll only learn about if I talk to Dwalin, is it?”

Balin blinked. “Sorry?”

Ori shook his head. “Never mind, Master.” He inhaled slowly, gingerly rolling his neck to see if the pain had passed. When he could do so without wincing, he nodded to himself. “I...” He knew he had to say something, but apologizing felt awkward, and he couldn’t think of anything else he should say. To be fair, he hadn’t anticipated meeting his soulmate’s family for at least another decade, but there was nothing about this soulmate business that was turning out as it should have, at least to Ori’s mind.

As Balin took his seat behind his desk, Ori glanced over to see his master watching him. “I know that denying a soulspeaking can be painful, lad. Did you still want to take some time to recover from it?”

Ori felt a surge of relief at the question. “Yes, Master.” He paused, and then added, “I mean, I’m feeling better, but--”

Balin waved a hand. “It’s fine, lad. Take the rest of the day, but I expect you back here first thing in the morning, understand?”

Ori was nodding as he stood up from his chair. “Yes, Master,” he said quickly as he beat a hasty retreat. “Thank you, Master.”

***

After deliberately getting himself lost in the network of corridors that made up the majority of the residence, Ori was still having trouble putting his finger on something.

He knew that there was something _different_ about the halls where the Line of Durin lived, compared to market and Dori’s house in the refugee sector -- aside from the obvious -- but he was having the worst luck trying to figure out just what it was. It was quiet here, but it was quiet in different areas of Ered Luin, too.

There were guards here, there, and everywhere -- _As there should be, you dolt,_ he told himself firmly. _The city watch is supposed to patrol the entire city, not just sections of it._

And yet...

It was possible that his relatively newfound awareness of the danger the city watch posed was making him see them in a different light. The three guards he’d faced nearly four months ago had been threatening, even though his soulmate had turned out to be one of the three. The threat of being left to rot in a dungeon had forced him to cooperate with them, after all. But there were guards of the city watch who could use that power to do whatever they wanted.

Here with an exiled royal family, there were guards too, but knowing that Dwalin was one of them changed things here, somehow. Dwalin was one of the weapons masters that trained Fili and Kili, and there were fewer watch recruits allowed with them for any number of reasons Ori could guess at -- less of a chance of accidents during training, less of a chance of assassination attempts, fewer dwarves to inspect to make sure they wouldn’t be tempted to attack either of the heirs in the first place...

Ori frowned.

Dwalin had to be a high-ranking guard in the city watch -- otherwise, he would be patrolling Ered Luin day and night, and he wouldn’t have the time to train two exiled princes. Could he have been given a position on the city watch as an agreement with the ruler of Ered Luin? If Thorin had city watch guards to guard the entrance to his home, it stood to reason that even if Thorin Oakenshield didn’t rule Ered Luin, he was still significant enough to merit his own residence (which they’d had to clear out in something of a hurry), and given guards to protect him and his kinsmen.

Guards that Dwalin might even have hand-picked himself. As a weapons master for the princes, he would also be in charge of who was trained with them. And if he had that much power over who came and went through the residence, it stood to reason that the guards he chose wouldn’t be corrupt. Or, if they were, they weren’t corrupt enough to willingly attack the royal family.

Somewhere, deep down, Ori knew that Dwalin would keep the Line of Durin safe.

Ori shook his head to clear it. When he stopped to figure out where he was, he wasn’t surprised to see a completely unfamiliar corridor. Weeks ago, it would have been ominous, but now it seemed just a little eerie.

He turned a corner to find Fili and Kili at a doorway, Fili bent down and squinting at the lock on the door while Kili grinned down at him.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” Ori announced, smiling when he saw the two jump away from the door, "it's not going to work."

“Ori!” Fili yelped.

Kili swiped a punch at Ori, missing by a mile. “I thought Dwalin had caught us! You nearly scared us out of our wits!”

“What little you had of them in the first place,” Ori said with a grin before he shot them a confused frown. “What’re you doing?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Fili asked as he got off the floor and dusted off his trousers.

Ori rolled his eyes. “Is this the kind of secret that leads to ‘terrible scolding and disapproving looks from your uncle’, or ‘you’re going to be cleaning all of the weapons in the armory for a month’?”

The brothers looked at each for a long moment before they turned to Ori.

“The second,” they chorused.

Ori had to remind himself that he shouldn’t be surprised anymore by what Fili and Kili did. “I’m going to regret hearing this, aren’t I?”

“Dwalin said that we have to figure out a way to get to Uncle Thorin’s ‘secret stash’, whatever that is,” Fili said, still focused on the lock.

“And when we find it, we have to bring back as much of it as we can,” Kili continued with a big grin. “And depending on how much we bring back, we get to choose between getting a week off from training and then returning to the training regimen we’ve had since we got that shot on him--”

“Or we get to choose our training regimen for the next month,” Fili finished distractedly.

Ori felt a pang of guilt -- they’d been able to get a lucky shot in on Dwalin because he’d been there to distract him in the first place. Then he remembered who he was talking to. “All right, so how does that relate to what you’re doing?” He felt a sudden spike of panic. “This isn’t the door to your uncle’s rooms, is it?”

“What?” Kili blinked at him. “No, of course not. It’s the armory.”

“And we’re breaking into it,” Fili said simply, returning his attention to the lock on the door and reaching into a pocket. “The way we see it, we get into the armory, get some guards’ uniforms. Then, we can swing by Uncle’s bedroom on a routine sweep, pick up the stash, and be back to Master Dwalin in time for supper.”

Ori blinked, completely baffled as to how these two could have figured out the silliest way imaginable to get themselves into trouble. “It’s not going to work.”

“What are you talking about?” Kili demanded, frowning suspiciously. He almost looked intimidating. “Of _course_ it’ll work. We’ll be dressed as guards, see?”

“And if we’re not recognized, then _we_ won’t get in trouble.” Fili pulled out a set of lockpicks and set to work on the door.

"No, Fili, it's not going to work," Ori said for the third time.

“Oh, and why’s that?”

“How many guards have you met that have the same color beards as you?” Ori asked pointedly. “Kili doesn’t even have a beard yet, and I know for a fact that the guards you train with have long enough beards that they’re visible under their helms.”

The brothers blinked, looked at each other, and looked at Ori.

“How do you know that?” Fili asked curiously.

Ori tried not to think about each time he’d encountered the city watch. “I pay attention at the Meatgrinder.”

Kili shrugged. “All right then, what’s _your_ brilliant idea for getting at Uncle Thorin’s secret stash of unknowable delights, then?”

“Well, first, I’d wait for the right time, like when your uncle’s not expecting it. Then I’d set up a distraction to get your uncle away from his room, and then I’d--” Ori stopped suddenly when he saw two mischievous grins aimed directly at him. “Wait, what?”

“Congratulations, you’ve just been conscripted!” Kili announced.

Just as Fili’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder, Ori backed away as quickly as he could. “No, that’s all right, really!”

“Come on, Ori,” Fili purred, closing the distance again. “Don’t you want to help us out?”

“I’ll be helping you out by not being involved,” Ori replied, smiling weakly as he tried to figure out the quickest way to get back to Balin’s office. More work would’ve been preferable to getting in trouble with these two. “My plans never turn out well.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Fili said firmly.

Ori took a step back before Fili could pat his shoulders again, thinking fast. The only thing he could think of was a bit stupid -- he really didn’t think Fili or Kili would fall for it. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Hello, Mister Dwalin!” he called cheerfully down the hallway, looking over Kili’s shoulder.

Miraculously enough, both brothers turned.

Ori turned and ran for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are such derpy dear hearts. They really are. <3


	16. The Stoic Dwarf in Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy goldfish, there's actual _action_ in this part!
> 
> And possibly more feels.
> 
> *looks shifty*

Mornings, it seemed, followed a routine of their own. Ever since he started his apprenticeship with Master Balin, Ori had come to discover that there were even some mornings that were so routine, he could reliably guess what was going to happen that day just by how he woke up. Today, for example, felt like it was going to be a fairly typical day.

Then again, there were always exceptions.

The start of the day was routine enough, with Ori heading to the kitchens and nodding a polite hello to the staff before he took a plate of cookies and a fresh pot of tea up to Master Balin’s office. He had just opened the door, however, when he heard the strangest sound.

At first, it sounded like thunder rumbling, but Ori knew that they were far enough underground that it shouldn’t have gotten _louder_ as he stood still.

Looking up and down the corridor, he wondered if there was some sort of new drill for the city watch recruits, and then he saw it.

First, there were two guards pelting down the corridor, their boots ringing against the stone floor. One of them had absolutely no beard to speak of, while the other’s helm was distinctly cockeyed. And both of them seemed to be carrying... books?

Before Ori could understand what he’d just seen, the two guards sprinted past him, just barely avoiding running into him before ducking into the open door leading to Balin’s office.

He ducked inside as well, gawking at them as they threw open the door across the room leading to another corridor. As he was about to turn to Balin and apologize for an interruption he hadn’t foreseen, the voice of one of the guards floated back to them.

“Was that Ori--”

If Ori’s hands hadn’t been busy holding onto the plate of cookies with a adrenaline-fueled grip, he would’ve groaned and wiped his face. _Kili,_ he thought to himself ruefully. _Of course_

“Sorry, Ori!” came Fili’s apology from further down the hallway.

Ori turned to his master again, ready to set down the plate of cookies on the edge of Balin’s desk when he was treated to his very first sight of Thorin Oakenshield, the exiled King Under the Mountain.

Thorin Oakenshield was taller than most dwarves -- probably a little over five feet -- with long, dark hair that flowed as he ran, his braids bouncing with each stride. Silver strands glittered from his brow in the candlelight like veins through dark rock. Blue eyes gleamed with outrage, striking against the contrast of dark hair and pale skin. His beard was shorter than most, trimmed close to the chin instead of allowed to grow and flourish like most dwarves. His bare chest was chiseled, muscles lovingly defined and covered with dark hair. Even wearing a clean, white bedsheet secured around his hips and carrying a freshly-polished sword in one clenched fist, he cut a striking figure.

Ori hopped back to get out of Thorin’s way, nearly upsetting the plate of cookies in his hands as he watched Thorin run through the door Fili and Kili had left open. When the king was gone moments later, he took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

If he was also trying not to recall how the sheet had hugged the enticing curve of Thorin Oakenshield’s backside, well, nobody needed to know about that.

“The penchant for melodrama, I believe, comes from Thorin’s mother’s side of the family,” Balin said dryly. “Did the kitchens have the cinnamon cookies?”

“Yes, Master,” Ori said, a little breathlessly as he set down the plate close to Balin’s right hand. “And there were some iced oatmeal ones as well.” He pointed them out helpfully, though it was obvious just by looking at the plate which was which.

Balin smiled before he pointed at the floor. “You might want to pick that up, lad. I think one of the boys dropped it.”

Ori blinked, and followed the line of Balin’s finger until he saw a small book sitting on the floor, spine-up and the cover flapped open, giving it the appearance of someone who’d just fallen flat on their face. Picking it up gingerly, he closed the book and turned it over curiously. “‘On the Battlefield of Love’?”

Balin brightened visibly. “Oh, that must be a new one. I hadn’t thought Thorin would have gotten a copy so quickly. Pass it here, lad.”

Ori blinked at his master, but did as he was told. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked a bit incredulously.

Balin snorted. “Of course, it is. There’s quite a market for romances like this if you know who to talk to.” He flipped open the cover and grinned, taking a lit candle from a corner of his desk and using it to shine a light under the title page. “Dakhin’s watermark. You can see just about half of it, there in the fold.”

Ori leaned forward to squinting, and sure enough, where the page was gathered to the spine, he could see most of the odd design he’d seen at the paper mill the day before. “Oh.”

Balin took the book back and flipped a few pages. “You could probably make some good money on the side, if you’ve a mind to write romances. Even just doing copying work for them was enough to get me spending money from time to time when I was an apprentice.”

“Romances?” Ori asked, looking skeptical.

Balin snorted. “Of course, romances. There’s a number of dwarves who tend home and hearth who don’t mind a good yarn.” He chuckled a little. “And if this story reads like I think it does, it would appeal to Thorin as well.” At Ori’s surprised look, he smiled a bit sadly. “You may not think it, lad, but Thorin’s not been able to find his soulmate, though he’s soulspoken for many years. It’s possible he may never find them, but these tidbits--” He waved the book a few times in demonstration. “--always hold out hope for those couples who’ve been separated for many decades before they find each other.”

Ori frowned. “Dori said that happens a lot,” he offered tentatively. “That finding your soulmate is rare, ever since Erebor was lost.”

“Aye, it is.” Balin nodded, his smile fading. “Rarer still for you to have found him before you’ve come of age.”

“Yes, Master,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. It felt awkward enough talking about this soulmate business with Dori -- his master trying to talk to him about it felt like he was about to receive a lecture on his love life from an uncle. “Should I start with the Cirth calligraphy, Master?”

Balin stared at him for a long moment before he mercifully nodded. “Give me ten pages of that, and then I’ll have a few documents for you to copy over.”

Ori nodded quickly. “Right away, Master.”

Ten pages of calligraphy, three pots of chamomile tea, and some hours later, Ori could feel the comfortable weight of a typical day settling onto his shoulders when Balin asked him to run an errand to the library for him. Thinking nothing of it, Ori snagged a cookie or two on his way out. He nodded to the guards as he headed into Ered Luin proper, and said hello to Master Hamal as he picked up the tome that Balin had asked him to retrieve.

It was on his way back that trouble showed up.

The tome wasn’t too heavy for him to take back, but it was large enough to be unwieldy, and at first, when someone shoved into his arm hard enough to spin him around, he gritted his teeth and bit back an outraged yelp. By the time he lowered the book to see who’d shoved him, he saw Nidi halfway down the street, dodging around vendors and outraged dwarves, with two burly city guards in hot pursuit.

Ori wondered if he should start worrying.

Gripping the tome closer to his chest to try to keep it safe, he started heading back when he found Nidi rounding a corner, sweating and panting.

“I thought that was you,” Ori said as the dwarfling came to a stop near him, breathing hard enough that he needed to put his hands on his knees and bend over to recover his breath. “What happened?”

Nidi glanced up at him, still panting. “Dori,” he managed breathlessly. “Getting attacked.”

Ice ran through Ori’s veins. “What?”

Nidi winced, pressing a hand to his side. “At his house. Thugs.”

Ori didn’t hear the rest of what Nidi was going to say because he was sprinting as fast and as hard as he could, heading back home. He didn’t realize he still had the tome in his arms until he’d turned a corner and narrowly missed it due to the weight. Cursing under his breath, he kept running.

It felt like it took an eternity of running when Ori arrived, only to find the door closed. At first, he wondered if Nidi had decided to play a prank on him, but then he heard a loud curse come from inside. Propping the tome carefully against the wall, Ori pulled out his spare key and unlocked the door, throwing it open.

The front room was in shambles. There were broken pieces of furniture, and for a wild moment, Ori was expecting for Dori to scream in outrage over his chairs being ruined, but then he saw five dwarves dressed in leathers and furs converging on the dining room, each of them with some kind of club in their hands. Dori was at the back of the dining room, near the kitchen and forcing his attackers to keep their distance with the steel bolas he’d had crafted years ago.

Dori’s teeth were bared as he swung the bolas in smooth, deadly circles, the metal weights whooshing through the air with each pass. The thugs were forced to duck away from them, and while Ori wasn’t sure why Dori wasn’t just attacking them outright, he didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Looking around quickly, he found the broken remains of the chair that belonged to his writing desk, but more importantly, a long piece with enough heft to it that Ori thought he could manage a swing or two with it. Testing the weight in one hand, he used both hands to hold it before taking a hard swing at the nearest thug’s head.

There was a gratifying thump, and he collapsed to the floor just in time for Ori to dodge the bolas.

“Ori!” Dori shouted, his red face getting darker. “What in Durin’s name are you doing here?”

“Helping you!” Ori snapped, grabbing the chair leg in both hands again and noticing that the thugs were turning on him. Then he realized that while he’d taken one of them out of the fight, there were still four left to contend with.

“Oh, right, helping!” Dori said sarcastically. “You can help me by not killing them, for starters!”

“ _What?_ ” Ori yelped, backing up quickly when one thug swung a heavy-looking metal club at him.

“Do you want to get arrested for murder?” Dori snapped. He started swinging his bolas harder, the whooshing getting louder. One of the thugs turned back to him, but three were still advancing on Ori with ghastly, yellowed grins.

“Aren’t we defending ourselves?” Ori asked nervously, swinging his piece of chair leg a few more times to keep a distance between him and three on him. He was slowly making his way back to the front door, but one of the thugs looked like he had anticipated him, and was starting to circle around to Ori’s right side, between him and the still-open door.

“Entirely depends on which member of the Watch shows up to deal with the mess,” Dori pointed out, starting to sound winded. “And frankly, I don’t trust any of them not to throw us in jail.”

At the sound of his older brother’s voice, Ori hesitated. He could try to shove past the thug blocking the door and make a run for it -- if the thugs were trying to keep the attack quiet, they might give chase to make sure he couldn’t find someone sympathetic on the Watch.

Then again, Nidi had been chased by two guards from the Watch, so it was entirely possible that they might not _need_ to give chase to make sure he couldn’t get help.

“Ori, so help me, if you’re not out that door in five seconds, I’m going to kill you myself!” Dori shouted, a note of panic in his voice that Ori could hear. “I’ll be fine!”

The thugs, sensing his hesitation, were starting to close in on him. Gritting his teeth, Ori grabbed the chair leg tighter and got ready to take a swing.

And then found himself facing down one fewer opponent.

The thug who’d been standing at the door slumped to the floor, a spray of blood catching Ori on the side of his face. Yelping at the unexpected wetness, Ori turned to see a city watch guard standing in the doorway, a full black beard visible under his helm, and an axe in each hand.

Ori blinked. “Mister Dwalin?”

Dwalin rushed in, both of his axes up, and for a panicked moment, Ori thought his soulmate was going to attack him, but then another of the thugs who’d been waiting for a chance to strike went down in another spray of blood.

“Ori, what did I say?” Dori shouted. “Get out of here!”

Surprised at Dwalin’s appearance, Ori didn’t even realized he was ducking until he felt the passage of two axes -- _Grasper and Keeper,_ he suddenly recalled -- through the air where he’d been standing, and the last of the thugs he’d been facing went down. He stood straight again, running back to Dori.

“Mister Dwalin’s here!” Ori shouted, his voice embarrassingly high and panicked.

“And so’s the reinforcements!” Dwalin snapped, matching Ori stride for stride and then whirling around to face the front door. Sure enough, there were four more thugs coming through the doorway. “I hope that thing’s not just for show, Dori!”

“I’ll show you ‘just for show’.” Dori grinned suddenly, and then the thug he’d been keeping at bay went down with a solid blow to the head. “How many more?”

“Four!” Ori yelped, his hands shaking where he held the chair leg in a white-knuckled grip. “We need to get out of here!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Dori snapped. “You got any tricks up your sleeves, Mister Dwalin?”

Dwalin grimly readied Grasper and Keeper in a flourish and braced himself. “No.”

Dori cursed under his breath. “Ori, into the kitchen, now.”

“What?” Ori was so thrown off by the order that his confusion overrode his panic. He turned to look at Dori. “I don’t think--”

“In the kitchen, _now_ ,” Dori barked, and before Ori could think about it, he was already obeying.

Dori ran into the kitchen after him and flung open the pantry door. Knocking out the bottom two shelves, Dori wrenched open a door at the back of the pantry while Ori stared at him in confused fascination.

Ori was about to demand to know why they had a secret entrance, and why he never knew about it, when a crash from the front room had him jerk his head up. “Mister Dwalin--”

“He can handle himself!” Dori yelled, grabbing the front of Ori’s tunic and shoving him into the pantry. “Get in there!”

“I can’t just leave!” Ori shouted back frantically. “Dori, he’s--”

“Get out!” Dwalin roared from the front room, followed by more crashes and loud cursing. “Now! Go find my brother!”

“You heard the dwarf, Ori, move!” Dori shouted, panic in his voice.

“But--”

“No buts! Go!” Dori started shoving his way into the pantry after him, leaving Ori no choice but to wedge himself through a secret entrance that was nearly too small for his shoulders to pass through. He got a couple of scratches, but soon, he was standing outside near a pile of trash, and Dori was clambering out behind him, dusting himself off quickly before picking up his bolas again.

“Dori, we have to go back,” Ori said quickly, his voice too loud and high from the adrenaline racing through his limbs. “He’s all alone--”

“He’s had more than enough experience of taking care of himself,” Dori snapped. “He told us to go find Balin, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“But--”

“What did I say about buts?” Dori’s hands landed on Ori’s shoulders in bruisingly tight grips. “ _Move._ ”

The trip back to Balin’s office was an exercise in restraint, to say the least. Ori tried to turn around every five minutes to run back and try to help, only to have Dori keep a tight grip on him at all times and try to look nonchalant as they walked as quickly as possible back to Thorin’s halls. Ori found himself imagining all kinds of nightmarish scenarios -- that Dwalin would be killed, made an example of by Kollr’s men or possibly even Captain Solvi’s, that he might be missing limbs if they even managed to reach him in time. Would he feel it if Dwalin was hurt, or even killed? Each time he’d think of something, he twisted uselessly in his brother’s grip and whenever he opened his mouth to plead to go back, Dori covered his mouth with a hard grip and shook his head firmly.

The two guards at the gate eyed them suspiciously before they recognized Ori.

“We’re looking for Master Balin,” Dori said tersely. “Can you direct us to him?”

“Mister Dori, I presume,” the elder guard drawled.

At Dori’s nod, the younger dwarf relaxed and nodded to the both of them. “We’ve been expecting you, sir. Right this way.”

And just like that, they were escorted through the labyrinth that Ori had slowly gotten used to over the past three months. The door to Balin’s office was open, and when the guard gestured for the two of them to enter, Balin glanced up at them, did a double-take, and got up from his chair quickly.

With his mind vividly coming up with more ghoulish scenarios of Dwalin in danger or being killed, Ori only paid the slightest attention to Dori’s explanation of what had happened, his brother’s voice a hurried murmur in his ears. Ori barely noticed a brusque napkin from the tea tray on his face staining with red after each pass. Before Ori could shake the mental images and add anything to the conversation, Balin was gone to talk to Thorin and fetch a doctor, leaving the two brothers alone.

“Do you need anything, Ori?” Dori asked gently. “A cup of tea? Some cookies?”

Ori looked up at him, suddenly aware of how jittery his arms and legs felt. “I need to go back there and make sure Mister Dwalin’s all right.”

“I told you before,” Dori said in a soothing tone of voice that said louder than words that he was being extremely patient with his youngest brother, “Mister Dwalin can handle himself. He doesn’t need you there to distract him, and he’d be more worried about protecting you than himself.”

Ori gritted his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw, hearing just how useless he was and knowing that Dori was right. “He was facing down four dwarves by himself, Dori.”

“And I daresay he’s faced down more than that over the years,” Dori snapped, starting to lose patience. “You’re his soulmate, Ori. He needs to make sure you’re safe, and the safest place you can be is right here.”

“What about him?” Ori snapped back. “Are you saying he doesn’t deserve to be safe?”

Dori rolled his eyes. “He’s been a warrior for _decades_. If he wasn’t able to face those odds, he would’ve known to cut his losses and run.”

 _You don’t know that,_ Ori thought sourly. _You don’t know if he’d keep fighting until he couldn’t anymore._

When he opened his mouth to argue further, Dori glared at him. “You are only going to run headlong into danger over my dead body, Ori. Sit. Down.”

Ori glared at him before sitting down, ready to glare and eat a cookie mulishly. As soon as he made contact with his chair, however, he sagged bonelessly into the seat and sighed heavily, all of the fight draining out of him like water through a sieve. He still tried a glare, but he wasn’t sure how disapproving it was, and anyway, Dori was sitting in the chair in front of Balin’s desk with his eyes closed, so he wasn’t in a position to see it.

It felt like an eternity when the door opened, but instead of Balin, Ori found himself looking up at Dwalin.

At some point, Dwalin had removed his helm, carrying it in one hand, with one of his axes in the other. For a wild moment, Ori wondered where the second axe was before he saw it holstered across the tall dwarf’s back. There was blood on his uniform that wasn’t his, and he smelled like a slaughterhouse, but all that kept running through Ori’s mind was, _He’s alive he’s alive he’s alive._

“Mister Dwalin.” Ori wasn’t sure what he was trying to sound like, but breathless hadn’t been it.

Dwalin’s head jerked to where Ori was sitting. Just as quickly, he took in Dori in the armchair, and then glanced at Balin’s empty chair. Turning to Dori, he asked, “Are either of you hurt?”

Ori blinked, feeling as though he’d been slapped in the face. He’d been so worried about leaving Dwalin behind, and _this_ was how he was going to act...?

Dori eyed Dwalin for a moment before shaking his head. “We’re fine, thank you.”

With a grunt, Dwalin turned around, only for Ori to notice a smear of blood against his side.

Panic overrode building irritation. Before he realized what he was doing, Ori was out of his seat quickly, across the room, and had grabbed Dwalin’s wrist. “Wait, you’re injured.”

Dwalin looked down pointedly at Ori’s hand where it held him, and then met Ori’s gaze unflinchingly.

“You should sit down,” Ori suddenly started babbling, even as he kicked himself for doing it. “I’m not trained or anything, but I can at least clean your cuts while we wait for Master Balin to get back.” He remembered a fragment of the conversation that Balin and Dori had had in hushed tones not too long ago. “He said he was getting a doctor.”

Dwalin stared at him. Ori was fairly sure he wasn’t blinking.

And then he turned to leave again.

“Dammit, Mister Dwalin!” Ori snapped, his voice climbing from nerves. “You’re _injured_ , sit down!”

Dwalin looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Let. Go.”

Ori swallowed, the voice thrilling and forbidding in his ears. He didn’t realize he’d let go until he felt his fingers clench around empty air. It felt like his heart was plummeting towards his stomach in a nasty sort of freefall.

Dwalin turned, and then left, closing the door behind him with surprising gentleness.

Ori stared at the door before slumping into his chair again. Part of him wanted to curl up in a corner and hide, but a growing part of him (which only ever seemed to make an appearance when Dwalin was around, now that he thought about it) was building up a good head of frustrated anger.

“That _bastard_ ,” he snarled, sitting upright in his chair. “I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t kill himself, and he just-- _just_ \--”

"That’s your soulmate, you say?" Dori asked mildly, turning to look at him.

Ori snapped, "I didn’t say I liked him!"

Dori gave a weak but amused snort before saying, "You could do a lot worse."

“Worse?! _Worse?!_ ” Ori spluttered, his voice climbing into a register he hadn’t been able to hit since his thirties. “Just the other day, you said he--”

Dori rolled his eyes. “I know what I said, and things might be a bit... different now.” At Ori’s incredulous look, he puffed up like an offended cat. “I misjudged him, all right? He cares about you enough to come find you when you get into trouble, and makes sure that you escape relatively unscathed. I think I’m starting to warm up to him. A little.”

Ori glared at him. “That’s not funny.”

Dori’s gaze sharpened, and he sat up in the chair. “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “Now, I’m going to go see where that doctor is -- even if you might not have been injured, it wouldn’t hurt for the doctor to make sure. And as soon as things have calmed down, I can head back--”

“What?” Ori asked flatly.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Dori had the nerve to look offended. “You’re safe, and I’m going to need to clean up the mess those hooligans made of the furniture.”

“You’re staying here,” Ori said with as much authority as he could get into his voice.

Which apparently wasn’t much, because Dori eyed him like a wolf staring at a particularly silly puppy. “Excuse me?” he asked mildly.

Ori completely ignored the warning. “You can’t go back there! What if they attack again during the middle of the night? They could kill you in your own bed!”

Dori rolled his eyes. “First, they’d have to break down at least two locked doors in order to get to my bedroom, which would be _more_ than enough noise to wake me up well before they got to me. Second, if you think I’m going back without any sort of precautions, you’re sorely mistaken. And third--”

Ori got up from his chair with more effort than it should’ve taken, walked over to Dori’s chair, and took one of Dori’s hands in both of his. Staring his brother in the eye, he said in a low, tired voice, “Dori, you’re my brother, and I can’t lose you. Please don’t go back. I’ll ask Master Balin if you can at least stay the night.”

Dori opened his mouth, looking ready to object, but then he stopped for a moment and looked at Ori steadily. After a silence that stretched for just a little too long, he sighed and nodded. “All right, Ori, but _one_ night. I couldn’t possibly impose on your master for more than that.”

Ori was pretty sure Master Balin would say that Dori could stay for much longer than that, but he didn’t say anything at the moment. He was too relieved that Dori wasn’t fighting him any further.

***

Less than an hour later, the door opened, revealing Balin and the doctor. Oin was a cousin of Balin’s, an older dwarf with part of his salt and pepper beard forked into tight, curling braids, and a small trumpet that he held up to his ear every time someone addressed him directly. At first, Ori wasn’t entirely sure he was a doctor until he set down a wooden box that he opened to show all sorts of tiny bottles and vials, along with some bandaging.

“I’m not injured, sir,” Ori insisted. “Really.”

“Then it won’t hurt for me to examine you, would it?” Oin replied with a smile. “Hold up your arms.”

Ori checked a sigh when he saw Dori glaring at him, and stood still, breathing when he was told to, peeling away the cardigan and other layers to show that he hadn’t been hurt at all except for a few scratches he’d picked up. He had to fight hard to suppress a smile when Dori underwent the same treatment under Balin’s watchful eye, but aside from a small splinter on the back of his hand, he’d walked away from the fight relatively unharmed as well.

Ori turned to Balin. “I saw Mister Dwalin come in. He had a slice under his arm, on his left side.”

Balin’s eyebrows jumped up at the news. “Ah, and let me guess, he left the room before anyone could make a fuss over him.” At Ori’s small nod, he nodded back knowingly. “He’s stubborn when he’s injured, but he knows to find a doctor.”

“I already told him that you were going to fetch one,” Ori said, his exasperation surfacing. “But he didn’t want to stay.”

Balin looked at him for a long moment, and then reached out to pat Ori’s shoulder gently, a sad smile on his face. “He probably thought it was for the best.”

Ori breathed in slowly, trying not to snap at his master. “I was trying to help.”

“I know you were, lad,” he murmured gently. He turned to Oin and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. “How’re the patients?”

Oin grunted, shoving his ear trumpet into his ear. After Balin repeated himself, he grinned. “They’re both fit as horses, though a good kip and some dinner would probably set them to rights better than any medicine I’ve got. Make sure to have some mutton sent up for them. The humors in the meat should help with easing the last of the tension in their muscles.”

Balin nodded. “Thank you, Master Oin. If there’s nothing else, then have a good evening.”

As Oin left, Dori turned to Ori. “I told you before, Mister Dwalin will be just fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Ori tried to snap, but the stress of the day was starting to catch up with him. “He could refuse to see a doctor just to show everybody that nobody tells him what to do.”

Balin rested a hand on Ori’s shoulder gently. “I understand your concern, lad, but sometimes it’s best to leave Dwalin be. I absolutely promise that he will take care of himself, even if I have to stand over him to make sure he does it.”

For a moment, Ori felt a surge of irritation -- _he_ was Dwalin’s soulmate, shouldn’t _he_ be the one to make sure that he was all right? -- but he fought it down. Dori and Master Balin were probably right. For all that they were tied to each other, Ori still didn’t know very much about Dwalin other than his reputation as a brave warrior, and that he could move in ways that made Ori’s mouth go dry.

He also remembered how Dwalin looked him in the eye and ordered him to let go.

He had questions he wanted to ask Dwalin directly, but it was obvious that Dwalin wasn’t going to sit still and answer them, let alone get medical treatment just because Ori wanted him to.

Inhaling slowly through his nose, Ori tried to calm down even as he nodded. “I understand, Master.”


	17. Defense Versus Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a difference between protecting someone and helping them defend themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to ForAllLove, Elsajeni, and Penniform for their beta work. The fic continues to entertain because of you guys. :D

Every time Ori closed his eyes, the nightmares came.

The first time he slept, he watched as Dwalin was ripped apart by orcs while his own boots were buried in solid stone.

The second time, he was swinging a sword uselessly at the largest orc he’d ever seen, trying to get the orc to drop Dori, only to watch in horror as Dori’s throat was torn open, warm blood spraying everywhere.

The third time was a confusion of Nori jumping out of the darkness and grabbing him, Dwalin snickering at him, and a quill chasing after him (which didn’t exactly make any sense, but it was still bloody terrifying in the dream, somehow).

Finally, Ori lay back in his cot and stared up at the ceiling for hours, not seeing anything, but not needing to. After an eternity of deliberately not thinking about anything and listening to his brother’s gentle snores nearby, he gave up on trying to sleep any further. He didn’t remember the trip to Balin’s office a few rooms away, but he remembered staring at his desk, the urge to pick up his quill almost unbearable.

At first, he’d thought that he was going to soulspeak again, but after sitting at his desk for five minutes, staring at a blank page, Ori frowned and twirled the quill in his fingers.

The door creaked open, and when Ori twisted around in his seat in surprise, he saw Balin close the door behind him. “Lad, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Balin asked gently. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Ori snorted. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Balin nodded slowly before taking his seat behind his desk. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that my brother has been tended to, no thanks to his own pigheadedness.”

Ori turned back to his desk. “I saw the gash on his side,” he told the blank paper softly.

“It’s been seen to.” Balin considered him for a long moment. “Did you soulspeak again?”

Ori shook his head. “I thought I was going to, but I guess I just wanted to stare uselessly at a blank piece of paper.” He gusted a sigh and turned to Balin. “Do you know where I can find him? Is he asleep?”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he is,” Balin grumbled. “As should you, for that matter. After what happened yesterday...”

Ori rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t hurt, and neither was Dori. Mister Dwalin wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need your rest, lad,” Balin said gently.

Ori shook his head, feeling himself blushing. “I keep having nightmares.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose in a silent question.

Ori shrugged. “Mostly about how useless I am. Either it’s Dori getting killed in front of me, or it’s Mister Dwalin, and I can’t do anything.”

“Not all dwarves are meant to be warriors, lad.”

“No, but if this is going to keep happening, I need to be able to do _something_ ,” Ori said firmly. “I can’t just let my family and friends get hurt because I can’t help them.” When Balin didn’t respond right away, he added, “But I’m not a warrior. I knew when I was little that I wasn’t going to be one, so how am I supposed to be able to do anything if I know that I won’t be good enough to protect everyone?”

Balin watched him for a long moment. “Being able to protect those who can’t protect themselves is an admirable goal, lad, but if you try to protect everyone you know, sooner or later, someone’s going to get hurt, and you’ll blame yourself needlessly.”

Ori scowled. “All right, then. What should I be doing if I’m not protecting my friends and family?”

“Helping them to defend themselves,” Balin answered, as if the answer were obvious. “Sometimes, the only thing that stands between you and the Halls of Waiting is a lucky strike, but you wouldn’t want someone to stand in front of you to take the blow, would you?”

Ice ran down his spine as Ori remembered Dwalin doing just that the day before. “No,” he said evenly, “I wouldn’t. Feeling like everyone has to shield me is why I’m here.” Some of his frustration came out in the gesture aimed at his writing desk.

Balin nodded. “But if someone were to distract an enemy for you, or disable them in some way so that they can’t take a swing at you, that would be easier to handle, right? You would be taking your safety into your own hands..”

“I see your point, Master,” Ori admitted slowly, “but _how_ am I supposed to help my friends that way in the middle of a fight? I haven’t trained with any weapons.”

Balin smiled a little thinly. “The warriors who win the battle at the end of the day are the ones that use the most important weapon of all.” At Ori’s frown, Balin tapped his head. “Their wits. Even if they don’t have a weapon to hand, a smart dwarf can walk out of a fight alive with their friends intact.”

Ori sighed. “I was able to swing a piece of broken furniture and take out one of the thugs who were trying to hurt Dori, but then I got their attention and I was stuck.”

Balin grinned with an approving nod. “See?”

“Yeah,” Ori agreed, still feeling discouraged, remembering how Dori was able to keep the thugs at a distance with his bolas, or the way Grasper and Keeper took down a dwarf with each swing. “But I’d still feel better if I knew how to use some kind of weapon. Even if I’m not very good with one, at least I have a chance of using it to my advantage..”

Balin nodded slowly. “Not every warrior fights with an axe or a hammer, lad. We could probably find something that’ll suit you, and still be useful.”

Ori frowned. “‘We’?”

“You didn’t think that I would let someone else train you on how to fight, did you?” Balin asked, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Come, let’s head for the training ground.”

***

Ori stared at the array of weapons uncertainly before picking up a sword.

Balin’s eyes lit up. “Interested in sword-dancing, are you? Being able to sword-dance is less about brute force and more about finesse and speed. Given your light frame, I think it could work out well for you.”

By the end of their first lesson, Ori was missing two braids, and the robe he was wearing sported more holes than fabric. Balin came close a few times to having more holes in him than nature had intended.

Ori winced a smile before setting the sword down and apologizing profusely because it looked like Balin’s hand was still sort of bleeding.

***

“There are two important things to keep in mind when using a war hammer, lad,” Balin explained, “The first is that you need to have a solid grip on the shaft. The second is that you need to be able to lift--”

Ori stared at the war hammer and picked it up with both hands. It took a bit of juggling, and he had to move his hands closer to the metal head, but he looked at Balin with raised eyebrows. “Like this, Master?”

Balin blinked for a moment, and then nodded. “Aye, lad, like that. Now, before you take a swing, remember--”

“How about this, Master?” Ori asked. It was easy enough to bring the hammer to his shoulder, and from there, he got a good grip on the shaft before he lifted it, the head a foot or two behind his right shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he swung down hard.

For most dwarves his age, it would’ve been quite an impressive blow, had it landed on the dummy.

As it was, the war hammer slammed into the packed earth of the training ground so hard that it recoiled, flying up fast enough that Ori was barely able to keep his grip on the shaft. Instead of the hammer flying out of his hands, his grip on the hammer meant that when the hammer flew overhead in an arc, causing him to fall backwards and land right on his ass with a startled yelp.

Balin stared at him with wide eyes before he laughed hard enough to start crying.

***

Ori tried an overhead swipe with a single-bladed battle-axe, but with his hands as sweaty as they were, it ended up flying out of his grip and sailing end-over-end through the air.

He started to open his mouth to apologize profusely when the axe bounced off the head of one of the wooden practice dummies.

Balin blinked. “That’s not actually supposed to be a throwing weapon, lad.”

“But I hit one of the training dummies?” Ori offered hopefully.

Balin cocked his head, and then nodded. “Aye. That you did.” He shot his apprentice a grin. “I think I have an idea.”

***

“A slingshot?” Ori asked skeptically, looking down at the wooden toy in his hands. “How is this supposed to do anything?”

“It may not do anything by itself,” Balin admitted. “But if you aim for someone’s eye, it’ll certainly distract them enough that someone else can finish the job. Remember that your aim is to help others defend themselves, not to be their protector.”

Ori couldn’t help blushing before he eased the pouch of the slingshot back and sighted down his arm. “How am I supposed to train with this, though? I’d be using rocks against actual opponents, but I don’t want to hurt anyone I’m training with.”

“That’s what they make helms for, lad.” Balin winked.

Ori still wasn’t convinced, but after taking the small handful of rocks from Balin and loading the slingshot with one of them, he took aim at one of the practice dummies and let fly.

It landed, with a satisfying thunk, against the chest of the one he was aiming for.

Balin nodded approvingly. “That, my lad, is a promising start.”

He was about to say more when one of the city watch recruits entered the training ground and jogged up to them.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said, bowing to Balin, “but Master Thorin wishes to speak with you.” He glanced at Ori almost apologetically. “Alone.”

Balin turned back to Ori, only for Ori to cut him off with a nod.

“I’ll be fine, Master,” Ori said, tossing a rock and catching it with the same hand. “I’ll stay here and practice.”

Balin nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you, lad. Try to aim for the head as much as you can. Your best bet is going to be to blind your attackers.”

Ori nodded again before readying another rock and sighting down his arm at the same practice dummy.

***

“There you are.”

Ori yelped, his shot going wide enough to smack into the wall a few feet from the dummy he had been aiming for. Wheeling around, he saw Dori looking at him curiously.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, looking at Ori’s slingshot with a thoughtful frown.

“Learning how to use a slingshot?” Ori offered, trying not to wince at how tentative he sounded. It wasn’t like he needed Dori’s permission to learn how to use a weapon, especially since Dori was one of the ones Ori was going to be trying to help with it, if there was another attack. “What’ve you been up to? Did you have a look around the halls?”

Dori nodded. “Yes, though I think my brother would’ve been a better tour guide than one of His Majesty’s guards.”

Ori blinked before he realized who Dori was referring to. “You could call him Master Thorin, y’know. Everyone around here does it.”

Dori snorted. “Even if he hasn’t been officially crowned, he is still my king, and he deserves all the respect that title grants him.” He shot his little brother a reproving look. “You should be referring to him by his proper title too, come to think of it.”

Ori shook his head. “From what Master Balin tells me, he doesn’t insist on his title because Erebor is still in enemy hands.” He frowned before he corrected himself. “Claws. Talons?”

Dori rolled his eyes affectionately. “Be that as it may, why are you learning how to use a slingshot? You didn’t lose a bet with one of those boys you got drunk with, did you?”

Ori blinked, absolutely mystified. “Um, no?”

Dori nodded firmly. “Good. They look like the types who would bet on anything, and it’s cruel to take money from simpletons.”

Ori blinked again, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Before he could tell his brother that he was calling the heirs of the Lonely Mountain simpletons, a door leading to one of the many corridors opened, and Balin reappeared.

“Ah, there you are,” Balin said, walking briskly in order to join them and gesturing for them to follow. “Just the dwarves I wanted to see. If you both would come to my office, I need to have a word with you about the attack.”

Ori blinked a few times before he and Dori followed Balin back to his office.

"It might take some time to explain all of this,” Balin began as he took his seat and gestured for the brothers to sit. "Please."

Ori traded a surprised but wary look with his brother before sitting in one of the armchairs across from his desk.

"What's going on, Balin?" Dori asked. Ori could see that he try as he might, he couldn't relax, his spine ramrod straight.

Balin sighed and looked at the two of them steadily. "The attack yesterday is something that's been brewing for some time."

Dori rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I've had to deal with Kollr's goons before, thanks to Nori."

"Aye, but Ori doesn't know all of the history," Balin said patiently. "And there are some things about this whole mess that you yourself might not be aware of."

Dori stiffened in his seat. "Ori doesn't need to hear this."

"Ori happens to be sitting right next to you," Ori said sharply enough to get a glare from his older brother. "If you and Nori and Mister Dwalin are involved, I'm not going to sit back and let my family get attacked."

Dori looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed heavily, rolling his eyes again. "Fine, but if I catch even a _hint_ that you're going out on your own, trying to stop any of this--"

Balin held up a hand, and Ori was surprised to see that Dori stopped mid-sentence. "Please, Dori. I know that you’re concerned for your brother, but I think our best plan of attack at this point is full disclosure."

Ori nodded firmly, focusing on Balin. “So, what’s going on? Why would they go after Dori if it’s Nori they want?”

Balin held up a hand for silence. “It’s probably best to start at the beginning with this sort of thing. You might find some of your questions answered by the end of the explanation.”

Ori sat back in his chair, and with a glance at Dori, waited for Balin to continue.

“Ered Luin has always had a criminal element. Unlike Erebor, however, the criminal element here is quite organized. It’s not as structured as some businesses or the guilds, but there’s a definitive hierarchy within the organization.”

“And Kollr Longshanks is... like a king?” Ori offered tentatively.

“Not quite, but he’s certainly an important figure, and has been for the past thirty years or so,” Balin said. “Compared to some of the other crime lords, if you will, he’s actually considered something of a newcomer.”

Dori’s eyes narrowed. “Thirty years ago, you say?”

Balin nodded, trading a look with him that said a paragraph at a glance. “Just so.”

“What’s so significant about thirty years ago?” Ori asked with a frown.

“It’s when Nori started getting into trouble with the law.” Dori snorted. “I can only guess that he ended up as one of Kollr’s lackeys.”

“From what my brother says, Nori has been making his way up the ranks with Kollr ever since Kollr became a major player,” Balin said. “Up until last year, they had a solid working relationship, at least.”

“Mister Dwalin?” Ori asked, confused. “Why would he know that about Nori?” 

“As your brother said, Nori’s been getting into trouble for at least thirty years,” Balin told him. “Thirty years without an arrest would’ve attracted the attention of the city watch, but it would’ve especially attracted Dwalin’s attention because my brother is keen on imprisoning criminals who’ve been operating longer than most.”

“After all those times Nori’s nearly gotten arrested, I’d be surprised if he didn’t know all of the city watch by name,” Dori grumbled.

Balin snorted. “Just so. According to my brother, he was on the verge of arresting Nori a few times over the years, but something’s always happened to interfere, whether it was the arrival of a more dangerous criminal, or one of Nori’s escape plans saving him in the nick of time.” He paused for a moment to sip his tea. “Dwalin would never admit it as long as he’s alive, but I think the two started to respect each other’s competence and dedication.”

Dori rolled his eyes ceiling-ward with a groan. “Just great. Another dwarf that Nori’s charmed to get out of trouble.”

Balin snorted again. “Say what you will, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying on Dwalin’s part. The trust between the two of them is how Dwalin knew where you lived in the first place. Not even Nori’s associates knew that.”

Ori frowned. “Why would Nori tell a city watch guard where his family is? Wouldn’t that just put us in danger from Mister Dwalin?”

“It would, if my brother were a less honorable dwarf,” Balin said, not taking offense at the slight. “Dwalin hasn’t been with the city watch for long, but he’s been trying to make a difference since he came back to Ered Luin a few years back. He was given a captaincy with the watch as part of an agreement with Thorin, but I’ll not bore you with those details at present.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“All right,” Dori cut in briskly. “So, from the top, Nori joins up with Kollr, gets into trouble, and then he attracts Mister Dwalin’s attention. It doesn’t explain why Kollr turned on him.”

“Dwalin thinks that Nori got some sort of blackmail on him, and it’s sensitive enough that Kollr is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else learns his secret,” Balin said, leaning forward to pour himself a cup of tea. He silently offered one to Dori with a lift of his eyebrows, but nodded when Dori shook his head.

“That’s why Nori had to leave Ered Luin,” Ori said, pleased that he had connected the dots himself. “Because Kollr was trying to kill him.”

Dori grunted. “He was also trying to keep us safe, the fool,” he muttered. “If he kept away from us, Kollr wouldn’t suspect that we knew anything about it.”

Ori frowned when he realized something. “Okay, so Nori leaves Ered Luin to keep us safe from Kollr. Why were there city watch guards who attacked us, though? Does Kollr have city guards who work for him?”

Balin shook his head. “According to Dwalin, Kollr’s tried to blackmail some guards, but nothing’s ever come of it. The ones you met belong to Captain Solvi.”

Dori’s eyes narrowed. “Nori mentioned him before he left.”

Balin sighed and nodded. “There’s widespread corruption in the city watch, and Captain Solvi is one of the most well-known of that number, as well as one of the highest ranking.”

Ori leaned forward and grabbed a cookie, munching on it to cover how nervous he felt. Growing up, Dori had always told him to follow the law, no matter what. It had felt a bit ominous when he was twenty, but now that he was nearly sixty, he understood the dark undercurrents behind Dori’s warnings a lot better now, and it was a lot scarier than when he was a dwarfling. He’d always thought that when he got older, there would be _fewer_ things to be scared of, not more.

“But Nori was working for Kollr,” Ori pointed out. “Why would Solvi be involved?”

“Part of it is because Kollr wasn’t above causing... collateral damage when he was trying to gain more power,” Balin explained. “And part of it is due to Dwalin.”

Dori’s eyes narrowed. “Dwalin’s sense of justice?”

Balin blinked, arching an eyebrow at Dori. “I’m not sure what happened before to get that sort of response, but things have changed since then.”

Dori scowled. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ori frowned between the two of them, suddenly remembering his conversation with Dori the last time he visited. Before he could ask for an explanation, Balin cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, Solvi had been known for being exceptionally honorable among the watch, but as the years passed, his morals became more flexible. No one knows quite why he started taking bribes to look the other way, but even so, Kollr’s methods were inexcusable. When Dwalin was given a position on the watch, it seemed like Solvi had found a ready ally to remove a blight on Ered Luin, but he had the sense to know that as soon as Kollr was gone, his own corruption would be found out.”

“But Kollr and Solvi are working together...?” Ori asked, mystified.

Balin nodded. “It appears so, though neither Dwalin nor Thorin are quite sure why. Thorin didn’t have a lot of information on Solvi to give me, unfortunately, just that he and Kollr have been ‘business partners,’ for lack of a better term, since Kollr made a name for himself. It’s in Solvi’s best interests to keep Kollr from prison at this point.”

Dori looked between Balin and Ori for a moment. “Wait, first you were saying that Kollr and Solvi were at odds, but now they’re working together.” He shook his head. “If they were working together before, why weren’t some goons sent to the house when Ori was alone instead of Dwalin and the other two guards? What if Solvi was there for the same reason Kollr is?”

Balin frowned. “The information that Nori could use to blackmail Kollr?”

Dori nodded. “Kollr’s obviously trying to get the information back. He sent two goons after me before the guards showed up at our door. Solvi wants that information so that he’s got some hold over Kollr.”

Ori opened his mouth, turning to his brother, but Dori waved at him dismissively. “It’s fine, Ori, I wasn’t even hurt. They got their arses handed to them, and all we lost was one of the saucers from the tea set.”

Ori glared at him, but kept his mouth shut. Then something occurred to him. “If Solvi’s corrupt, and Mister Dwalin’s trying to stop all of the criminals in Ered Luin, why didn’t he go after Captain Solvi first?” he asked, looking at Balin curiously. “He was right there in the watch, after all. He wouldn’t have had to find his secret hideout or anything.”

Balin smiled. “There were only rumors that Solvi was involved in shady dealings, lad, not hard evidence. And then there was Solvi’s dedication to putting the more dangerous criminals behind bars. It’s hard to imagine someone who’s that strict about following the law could break it freely behind closed doors.” He reached up to stroke his beard as he thought. “There’s been evidence that Kollr’s been trying to gain a foothold in the city watch for a while. It’s quite possible that Solvi was trying to gain equal leverage on him, possibly to use Kollr for his own ends.” He nodded slowly. “It’s a sound theory, Master Dori. I’ll bring it up with my brother when we have a chance to talk again.”

“So, until then, Solvi wants to keep Kollr close and out of prison until he finds that bit of blackmail from Nori, hmm?” Dori asked dryly. “We’re going to be targets until either one or both of them are in prison, and even then, that won’t guarantee our safety.”

Balin held up a hand. “We’ve considered that already. Ori will be protected for the duration of his apprenticeship -- I highly doubt that Kollr or Solvi would dare try to attack anyone under Thorin Oakenshield’s protection outright.”

Dori nodded firmly in approval. “It’s good to know that my brother’s in safe hands. Now, as for me--”

“You’ll have some protection too, right?” Ori cut in, managing a belligerent sort of hope as he glanced at Balin before looking at Dori again. “I mean, I wouldn’t have known you were even in danger if Nidi hadn’t found me. He had guards chasing him to make sure that he couldn’t tell anybody that you were in trouble.”

“Nidi?” Balin shot the two of them a curious look.

Dori gave Ori an impressive glare that said louder than words that Ori needed to learn discretion. “He’s a neighborhood boy who runs errands for me. My guess is that he saw the thugs hanging around, and took off.”

“Which sounds like your theory about Solvi might hold more water,” Balin said with a slow nod. “Solvi tends to use the guards under his command to hush up things.”

“Like threatening young dwarves with prison if they interfere with an arrest,” Dori growled.

Ori gritted his teeth, angry that the subject had gotten away from Dori’s protection, or lack thereof, from any kind of attack in the future. “Dori--”

Balin raised his eyebrows at Ori. “What’s this?”

Ori shot a dark look of his own at Dori. “The first time I met Mister Dwalin, he and two other guards from the city watch were at our house, trying to arrest Nori. The two with him threatened to throw me in prison if I didn’t cooperate with them.”

Balin looked disgusted, but unsurprised. “Aye, that sounds about right.”

“Which means that staying there is a bad idea,” Ori said firmly, turning back to his brother. “Because if they tried attacking you once, they could do it again.”

Dori rolled his eyes. “Ori, I’m not about to put my life on hold because of Nori’s stupid mistakes. And not that it’s _any_ of your business, but they’re going to think twice about attacking me again when they report back that Mister Dwalin came to my rescue.”

Ori scowled at him. “The next time they try, they might distract Mister Dwalin with something else to get him away from you.”

Balin nodded. “The lad has a point, Master Dori. Which is why my brother wants to assign one of his guards to protect you.”

Dori glared. “And just how inconspicuous is this guard going to be, hmm? I have a job that I intend to keep. I have a house that I paid for myself. I’m not giving those up just because a guard is going to station himself as visibly as possible to deter a threat that might have already passed.”

Balin nodded again. “I understand your concerns, but seeing as how I’m not the one who will assign the guard in question, I won’t know his or her capabilities. I’m sure that my brother will choose someone dedicated who will take your wishes into consideration while defending you to the best of his or her ability.”

Dori didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answer. “I’m going to want to speak to your brother, then.”

“I’ll arrange a meeting between you,” Balin agreed with a smile.

Ori looked at his brother, and then his master. If it was that simple to set up a meeting between his brother and his soulmate, why was it so difficult to find Dwalin, let alone talk to him? If that’s what it took, he might have to ask his master for a meeting with his soulmate as well, and wasn’t _that_ going to be fun.

Ori was about to ask whether or not he needed to be around while Balin and Dori made plans to meet with Dwalin when he realized something. “Why did the attack happen now?”

Balin and Dori turned to him. “What do you mean, why did it happen now?” Dori asked.

Ori snorted. “Exactly what I said. Nori’s been gone for, what, a few months now? Why would they wait so long to come after Dori, if they think he knows what Nori knows?”

“We’re not sure, but it looks like Dori’s safety depends on Kollr making a few assumptions in our favor,” Balin admitted. “The guard that my brother will assign to him will be an extra precaution, in case Kollr figures out what’s going on.”

Ori sighed heavily. “All right, so what happens next?”

Dori shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t slouch. It’ll ruin your back.” As Ori straightened his shoulders, he added, “I’ll head back home in a few days, clean up the mess that those goons made of the living room, and get back to business as usual.”

Ori stared at him blankly. _Business as usual?_ he thought, _After an attack like that?_ Fortunately, what came out of his mouth was, “Are you going to need any help with the mess?”

“Thank you for the offer, but no,” Dori said evenly. “I’ve been cleaning up messes since long before you were born. If I need the help, I’m sure the guard who’s assigned to protect me can lift and carry things just as well as you.”

Ori gritted his teeth. “Dori--”

“Ori, I know you’re scared,” Dori said firmly, “But I can’t stay here for the rest of my life. I need to get back on my feet, and if you’re with me, I’ll worry about you too. I need you to stay here and keep yourself safe.”

Ori glared at him. “What about you?”

Dori glared back. “Don’t worry about me.”

Balin cleared his throat carefully, looking between the brothers. “I cannae keep him here forever, Dori. As much as he’s my apprentice, he’s got a will of his own.”

Dori scowled at Balin. “I would’ve thought you’d side with me about this.”

“Oh, I am,” Balin agreed. “I just know that, sooner or later, Ori’s going to visit you whether you like it or not.”

Dori scowled at Ori. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

Ori did so with some effort, but as he did, he could see that Dori was thinking long and hard about something. He was going to say something -- he wasn’t sure what, exactly -- but then Dori spoke again.

“If you promise to stay here for two weeks, I’ll promise to come see you here, and keep the guard with me at all times until then.” He eyed Ori steadily. “Deal?”

Ori blinked, not believing his luck. If he couldn’t be with his brother to make sure he was safe, knowing that Dori wasn’t going to argue the guard’s presence was the next best thing. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still chipping away at Chapter 18, but at least I have a better idea of where it's going. If it's not posted on Wednesday, it'll be posted the Wednesday after.
> 
> Also, sorry for the massive info dump. I'll try not to make a mess next time, but I make no promises. >_


	18. Dealing with the Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard when the attack is over, but the fear and worry won't leave you alone.

Ori hadn’t been able to see Dori off. After a week of futile begging, pleading, and even logical arguments against his leaving on Ori’s part, Dori had headed out in the early morning. Ori had stayed in Balin’s office the entire day, never once lifting his head from his work.

He hadn’t been able to muster much enthusiasm for his newest assignment, despite the fact that learning Tengwar had been something he’d never thought he’d get a chance to do. His hands worked mechanically, shaping the letters with uncanny precision, but all the while his hand hadn’t felt like his hand.

Balin had frowned at him, but had him working on copying pages of text, the large, elegant letters growing smaller with each page.

As he worked, Ori found himself thinking about the attack, about Dori, about Nori.

The night Nori left Ered Luin, it hadn’t felt all that different from all those other times that Nori had left home. Maybe it was because life hadn’t changed at all after that night, despite vividly remembering how it felt to listen at his bedroom door and know that Nori was gone, probably for good. 

With Dori, it had been different. Of course it had been different. Dori wasn’t supposed to change. He was supposed to go through his daily routine of waking up, preparing for the day, heading for the tailor’s shop, and nagging at Ori because the cardigan he’d put on that morning had a hole in the side or something equally frivolous. Dori wasn’t supposed to be attacked at home, he wasn’t supposed to be breaking furniture and knowing about secret ways to get out of the house in case of trouble, he wasn’t supposed to need to hide out somewhere until the danger passed. With Dori so definitely outside of his regular place Ori’s life, Ori hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that his eldest brother was still in danger.

Part of him wanted to sneak out and go home, just to see that Dori was all right, and that their home wasn’t in shambles like Ori had last seen it. But when he remembered the promise he’d made to his older brother, he mentally shied away from breaking it. He’d also made it right in front of Master Balin, so there was that to contend with, too. He was fairly sure Fili and Kili would help him if he asked, but involving two natural-born troublemakers was going to invite more trouble than he wanted to deal with, he just knew it.

As much as it galled him, he had to wait the two weeks -- no, just the one week, really, since Dori had left a few days ago. Ori was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to wait at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that Dori had agreed to a guard protecting him.

Master Balin had said that Dwalin would be the one to assign a guard to protect his brother, though. While Ori didn’t doubt Dwalin’s ability to choose the best guard that he could trust with Dori’s life, he needed to know more about what was going to happen to his brother. He needed to know who was going to be assigned -- what the dwarf was like, how he (or she, really -- Ori wasn’t sure how many watch recruits were dwarrowdams) might react to someone as fussy as Dori, what kind of weapon they used, how they were planning on protecting Dori if it looked like Kollr sent more thugs after him….

Ori knew he didn’t have the patience to go back to eating lunch at the Meatgrinder on the off-chance that Dwalin would be training Fili and Kili on any particular day. That was just a waste of time, especially if Dwalin was going to insist on not speaking to him like he had before. But his brother’s safety was too important to ignore, which meant that he had to figure out some other way to talk to his soulmate.

The only trouble was, he had no idea where to start looking. There were guards and servants that made their ways through the halls throughout the day, but Ori had never really had a chance to speak to any of them outside of a polite nod or a murmured good morning as they passed each other.

Ori gritted his teeth. _What am I going to have to do to find him, knock on each door in this maze and hope I find the right one?_

***

As Ori walked, it felt as though his footsteps on the floors echoed like falling hammers.

It didn’t help that he felt like he’d been walking for hours. He thought he’d seen Dwalin out of the corner of his eye while he was trying to find him, but when he turned to follow the dwarf as he headed down the hallway at a brisk pace, Ori had realized that it wasn’t him. Still, the dwarf was half-dressed in the city watch uniform, carrying his helmet in one hand at his side, so it was quite possible that he was heading for where the guards were quartered at night.

Ori knew that he should’ve spoken up and asked the guard outright if he could direct him to Dwalin’s office -- it would save him a lot of guesswork -- but if he were being honest with himself, he ended up trailing behind the guard like a lost duckling out of embarrassment.

 _You should be better at this,_ he thought angrily to himself. _You don’t even know where your soulmate’s office is. What kind of a soulmate can’t get him to say something? Or even get him to smile? Even if you’re the butt of a joke, you should be able to get a smile._

A voice uncomfortably similar to Dori’s told him that he needed to stand up for himself, to not stoop to being someone else’s joke. _Even if you haven’t exactly mastered your craft,_ he reminded himself, _you still soulspoke_ years _before most dwarves do, which means you’re old enough to stop being nervous and get him to talk to you._

But, no, for all that he was talented, Ori was still doing something wrong. Each time he’d spoken with Dwalin -- no, it wasn’t speaking. Speaking would imply that a conversation had taken place. It was more like talking to a stone wall. One that was really good at glaring.

 _Well,_ Ori thought firmly, unconsciously squaring his shoulders, _he can glare all he wants. I’m going to make sure that my brother is going to be safe, and if he doesn’t like it, he can find a furnace to jump in, for all I care._

The mental image sated his irritation, but of course, when he returned his attention to his surroundings, he groaned out loud.

“How could I possibly have gotten myself lost?” Ori rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, and then looked around again.

Even a second look, and a third, yielded no immediately recognizable landmarks to orient himself with.

“Well, this is as good a place as any to start….”

Looking around one last time in a futile attempt to guess where he was, Ori sighed and picked a direction. At first, he just walked down the hallways, staring at rows of doors, never quite sure where any of them led. He would stop in front of one, raise his hand to knock, and then lower it again awkwardly.

After the third door he came to, he told himself he was being silly, and knocked.

For a moment that lasted for a small, suffocating eternity, nothing happened. Ori wondered if he could hear footsteps on the other side of the heavy door, maybe even a voice, but when he strained his hearing, there was only more silence.

After standing at the door for too long to be comfortable, he sucked in a quick breath, ready to apologize at a moment's notice, and tried the doorknob, only to find the door locked.

His heart hammering in his ears, Ori stopped for a moment and shook his head.

"It’s just a door," he muttered to himself. "Anybody could be behind it. It's not like a goblin's going to jump out and eat you if you're not supposed to knock or something."

He snorted at his silliness, and tried another door.

A few hours and an endless number of doors later, he'd met a number of maids who were cleaning different rooms, as well as a guard or two, but Captain Dwalin of the City Watch was nowhere to be found.

"Bloody typical."

***

"Excuse me?"

Ori wanted to kick himself. His next brilliant plan had been, simply put, to cast away what little dignity he had left, and ask someone for directions to Dwalin's office. Of course, when faced with one of the recruits that Fili and Kili probably trained with at the Meatgrinder, he hadn't counted on his voice climbing a register or two out of nerves.

 _This is important,_ he reminded himself sternly. _I need to know what's going on with Dori, and I can't do that if I'm being timid._

"...yes?" the guard asked tentatively. From what little Ori could see of his face, he sported a ginger sort of beard that was slow to grow in -- some peach fuzz that showed against pale skin.

"Oh, sorry," tumbled from Ori's mouth without any input from his brain. "It's just that I'm looking for Captain Dwalin." He tried not to wince at how tentative he sounded, but when he kept talking, he couldn't help it. "I need to speak to him about a very important matter."

"Oh," the guard said, his young voice sounding blankly surprised. "I can try to take you to his office, but I don't know if he's going to be there at this time of day? He's one of those officers who moves around a lot, so it can be hard to find him."

 _You're telling me,_ Ori groused to himself. He mustered a cheerful smile and said, "It's all right. If you could just direct me to his office, I'm sure he'll end up there at some point."

The guard nodded quickly. "Sure. I don't think he'd mind if you waited for him there. Just as long as you didn't disturb his papers, of course."

Ori had to stop himself from snorting, and he had no idea why. "Of course."

It didn't take too long for the guard to walk him to Dwalin's office, though the poor dwarf had apparently taken a wrong turn somewhere. When the guard showed him the door, Ori nodded and thanked him for his help.

When the guard walked away, he turned to the door and knocked. There was no answer.

Ori didn't recognize the door -- he wasn't entirely sure if he'd made it to this side of the labyrinthine halls the day before -- but he was going to have a better shot of finding Dwalin here than he was by trying to guess at his schedule.

A City Watch captain had to come back to their office at some point, didn't they? Of course they did. Master Balin stayed in his office night and day, with the rare exceptions of being summoned to a court of law, or to retire for the evening. It only made sense that, as his master's younger brother, Dwalin would have similar habits, if not the same exact ones.

Ori tried the doorknob only to discover that it was locked.

Gritting his teeth, he located the keyhole and pressed his ear to it, closing his eyes and trying to calm down the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 _No need to get excited, Ori,_ he thought to himself firmly. _You need to talk to Dwalin about the guard he's assigned to Dori, that's all._

He found himself remembering the look on Dwalin's face when he'd reached out and grabbed his arm in Balin's office.

"I swear," Ori muttered to himself, bending down just a little further to see if he could look inside the keyhole and see into the room, "if you really detest me that much, you should say so to my face instead of directing your remarks to other people just because I happen to be in the room."

The keyhole was no luck, and as Ori straightened his back and indulged in a long stretch, he found himself wondering if he should've asked someone else to speak to Dwalin on his behalf. As soon as he thought of it, he shied away from the idea -- what use was it to have a soulmate if you couldn't even manage a single conversation? And why was it that Dwalin didn't want to speak to him in the first place? Was he really that embarrassed that his soulmate wasn't a warrior? Or embarrassed that Ori was quite a bit younger than he was?

Ori stared at the door and shook his head with a heavy sigh. There was a part of him that wanted to go back to Master Balin's office, because Master Balin had wanted to talk to him about a new assignment that he actually had the option of refusing, but the more he stared at the doorway, and at the corridor he found himself in, the more he needed to stay.

He needed to make sure that Dori was safe, and he couldn't do that if he obeyed the rules. Not this time.

And so, he sat himself down with his back to the wall right next to Captain Dwalin’s office, leaned his head back, and waited.

***

“Hey, Ori.” Something hard nudged him gently in the side. “Hey. Are you dead?”

Ori blinked his eyes a few times, wincing first at the light in the corridor, and then at the screaming soreness in his neck where he’d developed a crick in it.

Because, apparently, he was silly enough to go to sleep. At least he hadn’t curled up on the floor like a dwarfling. He blinked a few more times and glared up at Fili and Kili, who were looking at him like he’d grown a second head while he slept.

“Guess not,” Kili said with a nod. “What’re you doing sleeping here? Don’t you know this is Master Dwalin’s office?”

Wincing and massaging the back of his neck, Ori grimaced at them. “Yeah, I know. I needed to talk to him.”

Fili snorted. “You’re not going to find him this time of night. He’s probably dead to the world himself. It’s nearly midnight.”

Ori groaned, feeling utterly silly for not having paid attention to what time it was. “What’re you two doing here, then?”

Fili and Kili traded aggrieved looks. “We _just_ finished running an errand for Uncle,” Kili moaned. “And since we’re heading out to the pub, we were going to drop off some of our gear before we did.”

“You want to join us?” Fili asked in a rare moment of sympathy. “If you’re taking to sleeping in front of Master Dwalin’s office, you probably need to drown your sorrows as much as we do ours.”

Ori opened his mouth to politely refuse -- he could still catch Dwalin in the morning when he woke, after all -- but then he was suddenly on his feet with the assistance of two overly-enthusiastic brothers.

“Excellent idea!” Kili grinned at him, making a show of dusting off Ori’s cardigan and beating him just firmly enough that Ori winced a little. “A good strong drink is just what Ori needs after a long, _boring_ day hunched over those musty old books.”

“They’re not musty,” Ori objected reflexively. “And I haven’t been working on books. I’ve gotten a new assignment from Master Balin--”

“Great!” Kili chirped.

“You can tell us all about it at the pub,” Fili added companionably, and before Ori could object again, he was being gently but firmly steered away from Dwalin’s office, down the unfamiliar corridors.

“Wait!” Ori yelped, trying to plant his feet, only to be pushed along as if he weren’t causing any sort of impediment at all. “Wait just a moment!”

Sensing an argument coming, the brothers traded another look. “It’ll be fun!” Kili pointed out.

“It’ll give you a chance to sit down, drink as much as you want--” Fili began.

“--Within reason--” Kili chimed in.

“Within reason, of course -- we’re not made of money, you know,” Fili continued, nodding a thanks to Kili as he did, and clapping a firm hand on Ori’s shoulder. “And then you can tell us all about why you needed to talk to Master Dwalin.”

“Maybe we can help!” Kili blurted out with a happy grin. “We’re good at helping! Mum said so!”

Ori started counting to ten, waiting for the inevitable bickering to start. He made it to two.

“She said that to you because you helped clean up in the kitchen, and even then, you put everything back in the wrong places,” Fili said with a grin. “And that was when you were ten.”

When Kili inevitably shoved at Fili and Fili shoved back, Ori saw his chance. Shrugging out of their grip, he took a few quick steps out of the line of fire and rounded on them, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “And did either of you bother to ask if I even wanted to _go_ to the pub?”

That stopped the brothers dead in their tracks, both of them looking startled and guilty. “Well--” Kili started before Fili shook his head.

“We haven’t seen you in a while, Ori,” Fili said plainly. “We miss you.”

“And you really do look like you could use a drink,” Kili pointed out quickly, as though worried that he wouldn’t get a chance to speak.

Ori checked a sigh with some difficulty. “As much as I appreciate the effort--” At the twin frowns turned on him, he shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I really _do_ appreciate the effort, honest. It’s just that I have to do something that’s important for my peace of mind -- no, I don’t want help, and no, I definitely do _not_ want to talk about it..”

Fili frowned. “Can we still take you out for a drink?”

“Fili, I’m not going to be able to calm down enough to enjoy myself at the pub,” Ori said.

“But Master Dwalin’s not going to be here until the morning,” Kili half-mumbled.

Fili nodded. “Kili’s right. What’s the point of waiting here if he’s not going to show up soon? We’re not going to get you drunk enough to start singing, but maybe you can have a drink or two?”

“We can get drunk enough for the three of us.” Kili grinned.

Ori opened his mouth to object one more time, but then both brothers did something they’d never done before: they looked serious.

“Please?” Fili asked gently. He sounded as though he’d take ‘no’ for an answer, though, which was a relief.

“Please?” Kili half-whined, his face splitting into a grin that Ori was fairly sure worked on their mother when Kili was small. “Pretty please?”

Ori eyed the corridor that they’d been dragging him down, and sighed heavily to himself. “All right, fine.”

As the two dwarfs cheered their victory and went back to wrapping their arms around Ori’s shoulders again, Ori told himself that he’d have _one_ drink, and it would be easier to wait for morning with something to occupy his mind instead of giving himself a literal pain in the neck.

***

Two drinks (and several apiece for Fili and Kili) in, Ori discovered that Fili and Kili’s surprisingly good memories were a disastrous combination with his sleep-addled wits.

What was worse was that he didn’t discover this immediately.

After some obligatory complaining about their respective masters -- Dwalin seemed to have eased up on their training as he’d promised, while Thorin had ordered them to clean and maintain all of the already perfectly-clean and serviceable weapons in the armory -- they drank their ale and enjoyed having a night together for the first time in what felt like an age.

And then, it happened.

“Hey, we didn’t ask Ori--” Kili mentioned before turning to the dwarf in question. “Have you seen a book recently?”

Ori blinked. “How much have you had to drink?”

Fili sniggered before Kili shoved at him clumsily. “Shut up!” Kili turned back to Ori. “We think we might’ve dropped a book in Balin’s office while we were trying to get away from Uncle Thorin.”

Ori could see the moment realization dawned in Fili’s eyes. “Oh, yeah. We nearly got our hides tanned because we were a book short, and we’ve been trying to find it.” Fili turned earnest, blue eyes on Ori. “You wouldn’t happened to have seen it, would you?”

Ori gave them a blank look, suddenly remembering the book that he and his master had found in Balin’s office. “I’ve seen a lot of books recently. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Both brothers groaned out loud, the effort clearly too taxing for young dwarves making headway into their cups. Kili grumbled before he shoved at Fili’s shoulder. “What was that one title we were trying to find? ‘Velvet and Steel’?”

Fili shuddered. “Mahal’s beard, no. We’d still be searching for that one if Uncle hadn’t gotten it back first thing.”

“What about ‘Carving the Heart’?”

Fili winced. “That sounds like some kind of Elf poetry. No.”

Ori blinked. If ‘On the Battlefield of Love’ had been a horrendous title, he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to hear others. Then again, he found himself wondering why Balin hadn’t returned the book to Thorin yet.

“‘His Axe, Her Whetstone’?” Kili offered weakly.

Fili looked as though hearing the words alone wounded him deeply.

Kili groaned loudly, letting his forehead land on the tabletop with an audible thump. “This is too hard! How are we supposed to remember a single, stupid title?”

Fili patted Kili’s shoulder clumsily. “It’s all right. We’ll remember it sooner or later.”

Not entirely sure what was going on, but determined to help his master cover for not having returned Thorin’s book yet, Ori stared at the two of them with something akin to horrified fascination. “Did you just quote titles of _romance tales_?”

He seemed to have done a good enough job with pretending to be aghast at the idea, because the brothers shot him curious looks. “Yeah,” Kili said. “What did you think we were talking about?”

Ori didn’t exactly have to fake how much he felt like something in his soul was dying slowly. “You stole _romance tales_ from your uncle?” he demanded, remembering at the last moment to inject disbelief into his voice. It probably sounded more like a yelp than a demand for an explanation, but as long as it kept Fili and Kili distracted, he figured it was good enough.

A burst of loud, raucous laughter from a nearby table had Fili looking around to see if they were the reason for it. “Keep your voice down!” he said belatedly. Folding his arms on the table and leaning closer to Ori, he added, “There’s a reason they were Uncle’s secret stash after all.”

“I know what it is now!” Kili slapped his hand down on the tabletop with a triumphant grin. “‘The Stonecutter’s Secret’!”

Fili buried his face in both hands and groaned.

Ori had taken a sip of his ale, just in time to nearly choke on it when he started laughing. “Who thinks of these titles?”

“I have no idea,” Fili moaned, shaking his head. “They all sound horrible to me.”

Ori shook his head, giggles still bubbling out of him, no matter how much Fili glared at him. “I don’t envy you two at all.”

“So, you haven’t seen anything like the titles my dim-witted brother rattled off?” Fili asked with a long-suffering sigh that said he was fairly sure what the answer was.

“Oi!”

Ori shook his head much more easily than he expected, giggling harder. “Those sorts of romance tales aren’t worth the paper they’re written on,” he said, half-believing it. “It’s a perfectly good waste of ink that could be better put to use detailing a little-known chapter of the dwarven people. The day I voluntarily touch one of those is the day my beard falls out and I’m weeping alone in a corner in shame.” He surreptitiously wiped one hand on the table as he said it.

“Oh?” Kili lifted his head from where he’d been resting it on the table and eyed Ori with a curious look. “Our Ori, not one for romances? Not holding out hope that your One is out there, waiting for you?” His expansive gesture to the world at large was ruined by a wobble that made him look like he was about to fall out of his chair any moment.

Ori glared at him, his giggles vanishing at the thought of how unsuccessful he’d been with his soulmate so far. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

The brothers looked surprised for a moment before Ori decided discretion was the better part of not having two nosy princes of Erebor asking about his non-existent love life. “What’s going to happen if you don’t find it? The book, I mean?”

This time, both brothers groaned out loud. “We can kiss any free time we have good-bye until we’ve come of age,” Fili said.

“And we’re going to be stuck learning about statecraft and how to negotiate treaties and all kinds of boring stuff,” Kili added. “Which is absolutely _not_ fair. It’s not like we even live in Erebor in the first place.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “Mountain or not, you’re still princes. You should learn that stuff sooner or later.”

“It’s not like we need it here,” Fili grunted. “Uncle takes care of any negotiations with the Ered Luin family, and that’s just a formality.”

Ori frowned. “Either way, you never know what’s going to happen. You might actually retake the mountain someday, and if you don’t know how to negotiate with your neighbors, how are you going to set up trade and alliances and all of that?”

Both brothers glared at him with the annoyance of dwarves who were being forced to think while heavily intoxicated.

Ori blinked. “What?”

“You sound like Uncle,” Kili mumbled. “We’re going to have long, grey beards by the time he lets us out of his sight, for sure.”

Fili clumsily patted his brother’s shoulder. “At least we’ll be suffering together.”

Ori snorted. “You two are really drunk, aren’t you?”

Fili and Kili traded a look before turning back to Ori and nodding solemnly in unison.

Ori sighed heavily. Draining his tankard, he set it down and turned back to them. “All right, so we need to get you two home, and there’s only one of me. Which of you can actually walk in a straight line? If you can’t manage a straight line, I’ll take a curved one.”

Kili raised a hand before he swayed, and landed face first on the table.

“That’ll be you then, “ Ori said to Fili.

It took some juggling to get the brothers out of their chairs and reliably mobile, but after Ori settled their tab and collected them, they were soon on their way homeward.

They hadn’t walked far from The Miner’s Drift before Ori spied a familiar figure walking ahead of them. Not entirely sure if he was correct in his assumption, he cleared his throat and asked, “Nidi?”

The young dwarf’s head jerked up tellingly, looking around quickly as his body tensed. Ori cleared his throat again, watching the boy wheel around to look at him.

When Nidi recognized him, he scowled fiercely. “What do you want?”

Ori shrugged, trying to play it casual. “Oh, not much. Just thought it was you.”

“Who’s this?” Fili asked, focusing enough on the conversation to notice they had bumped into someone.

“Somebody me and my brother know,” Ori said. He turned back to Nidi. “Are you doing all right? I remember what happened the last time we saw each other.”

If a shrug could be aggressive, Nidi managed it. “‘M all right.”

“And Dori?” Ori asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

Nidi rolled his eyes. “Oh, he’s _definitely_ fine. He’s got some tosh hanging around, trying to get into his pants. He doesn’t think so, but I’ve seen that look before.”

Ori blinked, wondering who in the world would be courting Dori, especially when Dori himself hadn’t mentioned any suitors recently, when he suddenly figured out who this new dwarf might be. For a moment, he was flabbergasted by the idea of a city watch guard hanging around, trying (and most likely failing) to court his fussy, older brother, but after thinking about it for a moment or two, he realized it was the perfect cover.

“You’re going to catch flies with that mouth.” Nidi snickered.

Ori startled, jostling Kili in his arms and making him moan in protest. “Oh, sorry! I just-- wow.”

Nidi snorted. “You’re telling me.” He eyed Kili in Ori’s arms, and Fili wobbling on his feet. “You gonna roll these two?”

“Roll…?” It took a minute to figure out what he was talking about, but when Ori figured it out (or _thought_ he did at least), he gaped at the younger dwarf. “Wh-- _no!_ I’m not going to roll them! There will be _no_ rolling of any kind!”

The look Nidi gave him was halfway between amusement and a careless shrug. “Fine, no rolling.” He eyed Fili and Kili curiously. “So, who’re they?”

“Friends of mine,” Ori said as firmly as he could while trying to correct Kili’s drunken listing. “And I’m taking them home. No, I don’t need any help -- I know the way back, I know which streets to avoid, and even while drunk, my friends can take care of themselves.”

Nidi eyed Fili pointedly, who was leaning heavily against a nearby wall, and then Kili, who was now leaning heavily against Ori himself. “Uh huh. Sure.” He looked like he was going to say something else when he stopped himself and shrugged. “You got things covered here, so I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Wait, before you go,” Ori said quickly, shoving at Kili until he was more or less upright. “There’s a book I left behind at Dori’s place, and I haven’t had a chance to pick it up. Can you fetch it and bring it to me at the halls of Thorin Oakenshield?”

Nidi was about to roll his eyes again when the name registered. “Oakenshield? What’re you doing with a tosh like him?” He eyed Ori up and down with a look of disbelief. “You getting extra work on the side? With how skinny you are?”

If Ori was outraged before at the idea of mugging his friends (if that’s what Nidi had been suggesting with the word “roll”), his face exploded into a blush that made him worry his beard had caught fire. “ _Absolutely not_.”

Nidi blinked, holding up both hands in surrender. “All right, keep your beard on. If you’re gonna be that prissy about it, why don’t you get it back yourself?”

Ori ground his teeth, trying to resist the urge to pick up the smaller dwarf and strangle him until he started turning colors he shouldn’t. “I haven’t had time. My master’s been assigning more work since I got back. And if I have to wait until it’s all finished--”

Nidi scowled. “Fine, fine. Get a book from Mister Dori, bring it to Oakenshield’s place. Anymore requests, your Royal Worshipness?”

“I don’t have a title, and _no_ ,” Ori said a little too loudly, earning drunken scowls from Fili and Kili. “No, just-- just bring the book.”

***

“Four minutes have passed since last you checked, lad.”

Ori gave a guilty start. "Sorry, Master," He turned back to his desk and stared at the page of Tengwar script that he'd been given to copy over after he’d brought the tea service from the kitchens at the top of the hour. Even while distracted by the thought of how he was supposed to catch Dwalin and talk to him, his Tengwar had evolved from “barely legible” to “passable”. 

Balin pointedly cleared his throat. “I certainly hope that the Tengwar isn’t boring you, lad,” he said mildly, the reproach in his voice clear enough to cause Ori to flinch. “I’m sure I can think of something else for you to occupy your time with if that’s the case.”

“No, no,” Ori mumbled quickly. “It’s not boring, Master, I promise--”

“Then I’m sure you have an explanation for why you can’t keep from looking at the clock for more than five minutes at a time?”

Ori turned to see that while Balin’s question wasn’t going to tolerate anything less than an honest answer, Balin himself looked more curious than annoyed with him. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said reflexively. Knowing that he had to explain himself, he admitted, “I’m a little... distracted this morning.”

Balin sighed. "You've been distracted for longer than just this morning."

Ori's shoulders slumped. It was bad if Balin had noticed, seeing as how Balin tended to leave him be as long as he got his work done. "It's nothing, Master, really."

“I see.” Balin arched an eyebrow at him in polite disbelief. "I'm sure that you'll finish that page within the hour, then?"

Ori looked back at the page on his desk and winced. That left leave him only twenty minutes to finish it, and he still had more than half the page left to do. "Yes, Master."

Balin nodded approvingly before turning his attention back to the contract in his hands. "Good."

When Ori’s eyes slid over to the clock again, Balin arched his eyebrows at him pointedly.

"Sorry, Master."

"Stop apologizing." Balin removed the loupe from his eye and folded his arms over the desk. "What's going on, lad?"

Ori shook his head, feeling his face flushing. “I’m…”

Balin kept staring at him, as patient as stone.

There was nothing else for it, then. As much as Ori wanted to walk out of his lessons for the day and search high and low for Dwalin, he knew deep down that he couldn’t. Dori had instilled too much respect for learning into him for him to blatantly abandon his lessons, even for the day.

 _And what,_ he thought to himself with no small amount of irritation, _do you really think is going to happen? Even if you found Dwalin and demanded to know everything he was doing to make sure Dori’s safe, there’s no guarantee that he’d even answer you._

Breathing in deeply, Ori got up from his chair and moved to stand in front of Balin’s desk. “Master?”

Balin’s gaze had followed him as he’d stood, still patient. His eyebrows lifted into his ‘aye, laddie?’ expression.

Ori knew he was blushing, and it was getting worse at the idea of having to ask his master in order to talk to his _soulmate_. He could feel a wave of bitter thoughts crashing down on him all at once, reminding him just how pathetic he was for trailing behind a dwarf who wouldn’t even answer a direct question from him, let alone tell him that his brother was safe. He’d needed an orphan who was hanging around Dori for free food to tell him that his brother was all right, and Ori still didn’t know what the guard was planning, what with pretending to court his older brother.

After the silence stretched too long, Balin set down his quill, looking concerned. “Lad? Are you all right?”

Ori couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. As much as he wanted to copy over an entire library shelf of books written in Tengwar rather than explain what was happening to his master, he reminded himself that Dori’s safety was more important than feeling ashamed that he had to run to his master to fix his problems because he couldn’t handle it himself.

“Could you arrange a meeting for me?” he asked softly. “With Mister Dwalin?”

He gritted his teeth, telling himself that this was the fastest way to find out what was happening with Dori. He was going to have to deal with the fact that Dwalin was avoiding him at some point, but until he could find him and demand to know what was going on between them--

Balin blinked at him. “Arrange a meeting?”

Ori frowned, not sure what he thought that his master was surprised by the request. “Yes, Master. I understand if he’s busy, but I was hoping--”

“No-- well, he _is_ busy, but not nearly that much--” Balin shook his head, still looking bewildered. “But why would you need to arrange a meeting? Haven’t you spoken with him?”

Ori‘s stomach twisted. “Not... exactly,” he managed weakly. As he watched Balin’s look sharpen into something like disapproval, he quickly added, “Actually-- Master, please, forget I said anything, it’s not important.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to scream that, no, he didn’t mean it, it _was_ important. The trouble was, after having lived with Dori for so long, he’d gotten into the habit of agreeing with him immediately whenever an argument threatened to break out between them. The words had tumbled from his lips as quickly as they had when he was a dwarfling. He wanted to kick himself for opening his mouth in the first place. He should’ve stayed quiet, sat in front of Dwalin’s office until the dwarf had no choice but to talk to him--

Balin’s left eyebrow rose slowly. “Oh, aye, I can see it’s ‘not important’,” he said dryly. “I thought you’d said you’d spoken to him before?”

Just as Ori’s annoyance at himself was rising in leaps and bounds, he felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. “Twice,” he half-mumbled, his gaze shying away from Balin’s. “The one time before, and again a few days ago, when he was injured and he came here. I think he’d been looking for you, though.”

A minute or two stretched into an uncomfortable eternity as Balin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and watching him steadily. “What did he say the first time you spoke to him?”

“He didn’t.” When Balin’s eyebrows rose in a silent question, Ori added awkwardly, “Say anything, I mean.”

Balin nodded slowly. As Ori watched, he could see something shift in his eyes, turning inward. “I see.”

Ori shook his head, feeling his guts twisting into uncomfortable knots. “Master, I--” He stopped himself from apologizing, but it had been a near thing. Shaking his head, he tried again. “This is between me and Mister Dwalin-- I shouldn’t have said anything-- I’ll figure this out--”

Balin looked at him for another long moment before he leaned back in his chair. “Why is it that you need to speak to him?”

Ori gritted his teeth, looking away when he couldn’t take looking his master in the eye anymore. “I’m worried about Dori,” he half-mumbled. “You said that Mister Dwalin was going to decide who was assigned to protect him. And since I can’t go see that Dori’s safe for myself, I wanted to…” He swallowed around the hard lump that had lodged in his throat. “Like I said, Master, I’ll figure out how to find Mister Dwalin, I’m sorry to have--”

“Ori.”

Ori turned to look at his master reluctantly.

Balin’s usually genial face was grave. “Don’t be ashamed for being worried about your family.”

Ori shook his head. “It’s not that…”

Balin held up a hand. “That may be the case, but it’s something that you should remember for the future. Now, how about we make a deal?”

Ori frowned. “A deal?”

Balin nodded. “Remember the copying job I mentioned yesterday?”

Ori nodded slowly, his confusion growing. “You said it was one that I had the option of refusing, if I wanted to.”

Balin huffed a quiet chuckle. “I also said that you might want to think twice before you turned it down,” he said, gentle reproof in his tone. “See the book on the corner there?”

Ori frowned, following his master’s gaze to a familiar book on the corner of the desk closest to him. “Master? Is that what I think it is?”

Balin grinned, the gap between his front teeth showing. “Oh, aye, the book the boys dropped during their merry chase through the halls.” The look he gave Ori was gentler than usual. “I expect they’ll be wanting this back.”

“Or possibly Master Thorin,” Ori offered, remembering how angry Thorin had looked while half-dressed and carrying a sword.

Balin snorted, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “Oh, aye, him too. But I think I have a better idea.” His brown eyes cut to meet Ori’s, mischief twinkling in them.

Ori blinked, a bit startled by the idea that Fili and Kili weren’t the only ones of the Durin lineage capable of mischief on a grand enough scale to cause exiled kings dressed only in bedsheets to give chase. “...Master?” he squeaked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Balin smirked, picking up the book and leafing through the pages. “How would you like your first paying job?”

If there was something Ori was expecting, it wasn’t that. “You want me to copy that entire book?” he blurted out.

Balin looked entirely too innocent for a dwarf his age. “Why, of course. What did you think you would be doing, hiding it?”

Ori stared at the book as if it had masterminded a bizarre prank that Fili and Kili could only aspire to dream of. Instead, all he saw was a plain, red leather cover with an intricate knotwork design stamped on the front.

Balin nodded firmly, unable to stop smiling. “Aye. I’ll give you the going rate for each page, and we can negotiate the price if you work faster.” He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Of course, I’ll be willing to pay more for fewer mistakes.”

“Master, what if someone comes looking for that book?” Ori asked incredulously, remembering Fili and Kili from the night before. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up to Master Thorin if he wanted his property back.”

“Especially if he takes to wearing a bedsheet when he comes looking for it, I suppose?” Balin asked with a grin. At Ori’s blush, he chuckled. “I think you’re safe there, lad. Thorin knows that Fili and Kili were the culprits. If anyone is going to get him a replacement, it’ll be those two.”

“I don’t want them to get into trouble,” Ori protested, remembering how much the two of them complained the night before in between downing rounds of ale.

Balin looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Ori rolled his eyes. “Any more than they already are, I mean.”

“While your loyalty does you credit, there are some lessons the boys should learn for themselves,” Balin said.

“Don’t steal from a dwarf willing to chase you half-naked through the halls?” Ori asked curiously.

Balin chuckled. “Don’t get caught.”

Despite how bad he felt for how much Fili and Kili had already suffered -- if their accounts of Master Thorin’s punishments were true -- Ori couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“So, lad,” Balin said, nodding to the book in his hands. “What do you say?”

Ori frowned. “But what about Dori?”

“While you’re busy copying the first few chapters, I’ll talk to my brother and get all the details straight from him,” Balin said.

Ori frowned, something unpleasant curling in his belly as he asked, “And if I didn’t want to take the copying job?”

Balin’s expression lost all traces of humor. “Lad, listen to me. I will never use your family’s safety to force you to take a job that pays in coin. It’s bad business, and only bad luck could ever come of it. I’m going to speak to him either way, and let you know what I find out.” 

Ori found he could breathe easier. “Thank you, Master.”

Balin nodded firmly. “Now, were you thinking of taking the job or not?”

Ori knew he needed to refuse. It was going to be just his luck if Fili or Kili found out that he had the book after all, no matter how much he’d protested about the uselessness of romances. It would also be just his luck if Master Thorin himself asked, and he _knew_ he was a terrible liar when asked a direct question. It was also going to be one of those terrible romance novels that the apprentices at the tailoring shop had giggled over when Ori was younger, where the main character was strong and his nose had only been broken once, and there were all sorts of things about forging or gem cutting, and the love interest was a musician who wrote sappy love songs about how amazing the hero was.

So, of course, the first words out of Ori’s mouth were, “How much is the going rate?”

Balin grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus fuck nuggets, that took longer than it should have. It's not as bad as the Chapter 11 debacle, but geez, this is kind of embarrassing. ._.
> 
> I've made good headway on Chapter 19, so hopefully, this won't happen again. Expect an update within 1-2 weeks, writing ability willing. (This should still give me enough time to finish the fic before Desolation of Smaug on December 13th, yay!)
> 
> Either way, the writing continues, and with any luck, it'll be fairly steady.


	19. Passages from a Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ori starts his new copying job, life continues apace, as life is wont to do.

_Her hair was a riot of raven curls, tresses that spilled from her elaborate braids onto her broad shoulders. There was a single lock of hair that fell before her eyes, as though taunting her. She had a feeling that one lock of hair would one day be the difference between success and ruin--_

Ori stared at the paragraph and groaned out loud.

He flipped forward a few pages to see where the chapter would end when he came upon another passage.

_His eyes shone like emeralds, set into a face the color of burnished bronze. His nose had only been broken once, giving him a regal countenance that would not have been out of place in the royal court of Erebor or even Khazad-dûm in ages past._

_And now, those eyes gazed upon her. She felt her breath quicken, her heartbeat skip, her fingers tremble._

_“May I know the name of such a handsome smith?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, sounding to her ears like a rich mead would feel to her parched throat._

_Just as she was about to answer, she awoke from her slumber._

Very calmly, Ori eased the book closed, set it to one side with the care he reserved for all the materials that Balin gave him to copy, and proceeded to beat his forehead against his desk until the pain stopped.

***

“Is it a good read so far, lad?”

Ori glanced up from page fourteen of ‘On the Battlefield of Love’ to see Balin walk over to his desk and sit down. “I’d prefer not to answer, if it’s all right with you.” At Balin’s arched eyebrows, he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to spoil anything, Master.”

Balin snorted back. “I see now. You’ll entice me with tidbits of what’s to come and then say that you won’t be able to finish the chapter this evening with the amount of Tengwar you have left to do.”

Ori blinked. “Tengwar...?” he repeated blankly. “But I have this book to copy?”

“You didn’t think you were going to get out of your Tengwar lessons just because you have a paying job, did you?” Balin asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a chuckle looming.

“But--”

Balin shook his head. “Scribes don’t usually have the luxury of only working one job at a time, lad. You have to learn to prioritize.” At Ori’s astonished look, he finally chuckled. “Think of it as another lesson, if you wish.”

Ori groaned again. “Why did I agree to this torture in the first place?”

Balin’s smile dimmed for a moment. “I’m sure you remember why, lad.”

It was surprising how quickly Ori was able to set aside feeling like his teeth were being permanently set on edge by the prose. “Were you able to speak with Mister Dwalin?”

Balin nodded. “Aye.”

After a significant pause, Ori frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Balin snorted. “My brother didn’t give me much to go on. The guard assigned to protect your brother is Maris, daughter of Ovarr. A refugee from Erebor, she’s about your brother’s age or a little older, from a good family, and she’s been serving in the city watch for a short enough time that my brother seems willing to trust her.”

Ori blinked. “Nidi said she was trying to get into my brother’s--” When he saw Balin’s intrigued expression, he snapped his mouth shut as he wished that the floor would open beneath him and swallow him whole.

“Oh?” Balin prompted, sounding entirely too amused for Ori’s comfort.

His face getting redder, Ori said, “Apparently, her cover is that she’s interested in courting my brother, and seems… quite enthusiastic. According to someone I know who’s seen Dori.” Any minute now, the carpet would rip apart, and Ori could disappear into the stone of the mountain itself, never to be seen again. At least, that’s what he was hoping would happen. Maybe if he faked being violently ill, he could avoid the mental image of a dwarrowdam trying to flirt with his fussy, older brother.

Maybe he _could actually_ be violently ill.

Balin looked pleasantly surprised before nodding in approval. “From what Dwalin tells me, Maris tends to favor a more subtle approach. It seems that’s why he chose her for the position.”

“Please don’t mention positions,” Ori squeaked.

Balin blinked at him for a moment before chuckling. “The job, then. Dwalin swears she’s been staying close to him, noon and night, and she has a good eye for spotting trouble before it happens.”

Ori nodded reluctantly. “Have you met her, Master?”

Balin shook his head. “I’m not involved in the training of new recruits for the Watch, but…” He sat back in his chair and watched Ori steadily. “It takes Dwalin longer than most to trust someone. If my brother says that she’ll defend Dori with her life, she’ll do just that.”

Ori had to stop himself from snorting out loud at the understatement. He'd certainly seen for himself that Dwalin didn't trust easily -- they’d stood in each other’s presence perhaps twice, and only once had they actually exchanged words instead of Dwalin silently glaring at him. The fact that they were soulmates just made it feel worse, because if there was supposed to be one dwarf that Dwalin should’ve been able to trust above anyone else, it should’ve been his soulmate, but no, he didn’t even bother acknowledging him unless Ori did something outrageous, like grab his arm to stop him from walking away _again_ , and insisting that he wait and get medical attention because he was _bleeding_ \--

Ori breathed in deeply to try to stop himself from getting worked up, with limited success. He couldn’t let his personal issues with Dwalin get in the way of making sure that his brother was as safe as possible, and since Dwalin was the one making sure Dori was safe, he would have to trust him, just this once. “I… guess I’ll have to see for myself how the arrangement’s working out so far between them.”

“Make sure to give it a few more weeks,” Balin said and Ori could recognize it for the order it was. “I don’t want you to be put in danger quite so soon, and the two of you together might be all too tempting a target.”

Ori frowned. “Is that why you haven’t sent me out for any errands?” And then realization hit. “You’ve been assigning nearly double my normal workload for the past few days.”

Balin raised an eyebrow at him, unsurprised but not concerned. “You’re an excellent student, and I knew that you weren’t going to start worrying that you had more work than before.”

Ori had to stop himself from being too pleased by the praise. “Master, I wasn’t going to…” His voice trailed off at Balin’s skeptical look. “I did think about it,” he admitted in a mumble. “But I couldn’t. I made a promise to Dori.”

Balin nodded. “Promises to family can sometimes be the most difficult to keep, but also the most rewarding if you manage it.” His gaze slid to the book on Ori’s desk. “Now, do you have the first chapter for me?”

Ori shook his head. “The author seems to like long chapters, sorry.” Of course, he was only sorry that the book wasn’t shorter, so he wouldn’t waste so much time copying romantic drivel, but he didn’t need to tell Balin that.

Balin shrugged. “The more for me to read when you finish it. If you finish it after I retire for the evening, leave it under Patience and I’ll get to it in the morning.” He waved absent-mindedly at the orc skull on his desk, which was positioned to stare at anyone who entered the room.

Ori nodded. “Yes, Master.”

***

_She was in the middle of forging the blade for a scythe when she felt it come upon her._

Ori stopped, reread the sentence, and stared, a sense of impending dread rising up in his chest.

_Rhis took a slow, deep breath, and shook her head. “I must finish my work. I cannot stop to make another ill-suited blade.”_

_And so it was her resolve that she continued her work, ignoring the minor ache in her belly as her soul attempted to take her attention from her task. But Rhis was strong, and not to be swayed. She had been specifically requested for this work, and she would do it to the utmost of her ability._

_Her soul, she decided with a toss of her raven tresses, would have to wait._

Ori stared. He reread the passage four times. He stared again. Finally, he couldn’t help himself. “ _What?_ ”

He was so wrapped up in staring at the book in complete outrage that, when Balin startled in his chair, Ori ended up startling in his own. Ori turned quickly to see Balin shooting him a look that was partly worry, but mostly irritation.

“If you’re going to keep objecting over how the book is written,” Balin began a bit waspishly, “you might want to either warn me that you’re working on it, or copy it over on your own time.”

Ori spluttered, holding up the book as if he were physically unable to put it down, even though he wanted to drop it like it had caught fire. “But!”

Balin sighed, setting the contract down and staring at his student. “But what?”

“That’s not how soulspeaking works!” Ori protested.

It appeared that Balin hadn’t expected this. He blinked a few times before holding his hand out for the book. When Ori didn’t immediately get up and hand it over, he flexed his fingers in visible irritation. “I’ll not read ahead. Just hand it over.”

Ori did as he was told, leaning over Balin’s desk to point out the offending passage. “Start there.”

It took all of a moment for Balin to read it over, and when he returned his gaze to Ori’s, he looked apologetic. “To be fair, these authors aren’t aware of what happens when a dwarf soulspeaks, and neither are the readers.”

“But that’s all the more reason to get it right, Master. Shoddy research doesn’t excuse spreading incorrect information,” Ori snapped before he realized what he’d said. “Um, sorry.”

Balin stared at him for a moment before he started chuckling.

“He could’ve asked someone what it was like,” Ori protested weakly.

“Oh, believe me, lad, I completely agree with you,” Balin said through his chuckles. “Try to think of it as artistic license, if that will help you to copy it.”

Ori shot his master a half-hearted glare. “It couldn’t have been that difficult for him to find someone and _ask_ ,” he muttered.

“Ah, but would you have felt comfortable talking to a dwarf who wanted to write a romance novel about a pair of soulmates, and wished to ask you what the experience was like?” Balin asked mildly.

Ori opened his mouth to declare that he would, if it would prevent a travesty like this. And then he thought about his own situation with Dwalin -- a handsome guard of the City Watch who wouldn’t even say more than two words to him. He subsided with a sour look, his eyes drifting away from Balin’s gaze. “I see your point, Master.”

He could feel Balin watch him for a long moment before he sighed. “To be fair, your relationship with Dwalin is fairly unusual--”

Ori shook his head once, turning back to Balin. “Master, I’m sorry, but can we not talk about it? Please?”

Balin watched him for a long moment, and then nodded. “Aye, we can do that.”

***

Ori blinked hard, only to find the half-page he’d copied about Rhis’s smithing work was interrupted by what he felt to be an obnoxiously large drawing of Dwalin glaring at him.

He breathed in deeply to try to calm down. When that didn’t work, he very carefully capped the ink bottle sitting on the corner of his desk, set it gently on the floor, and then slammed his fist onto the top of his desk, right into the sketch’s eyes.

Pain exploded in his hand, lancing up his arm and setting his teeth on edge. As much as Ori tried not to make a sound, he let out a small squeak.

“Ori?”

Cradling his injured arm carefully, Ori turned to look his master in the eye, feeling like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry, Master.”

Balin looked startled and slightly annoyed at the same time. “Even if Bruni really is as much of a idiot as you say, you don’t necessarily need to take your frustration out on the furniture.”

Ori cleared his throat. “It wasn’t Bruni, Master. I just have a page to recopy, is all.”

Balin frowned. “I’m sure whatever mistake you made can’t be as bad as--”

Ori used his left hand to pick up the page he’d been copying, complete with Dwalin’s slightly smeared face, and held it up one-handed.

“Ah.” Balin said.

Ori smiled wryly. “I’ll recopy the page.”

Balin nodded to him, his smile a faint curve of his lips. “Good lad.”

As Ori set aside the sketch and picked up the ink bottle from where he’d placed it on the floor, he heard Balin clear his throat. “Ori?”

Ori turned back to see Balin still looking at the parchment in his hands. “Yes, Master?”

“If you need privacy, all you need to do is ask, lad,” Balin said reasonably. “I wouldn’t begrudge you.”

Ori blinked a few times, wondering what he was talking about. “Thank you, Master...?” he offered weakly.

Balin nodded, looking satisfied. “I usually tried to get soulspeakings out of the way in the mornings, but you’re still young. It may take some time, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Ori had been staring blankly at his master until he couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you talking about?”

Balin looked up finally, blinking at Ori in surprise. “You’ve only had two lapses so far, lad. That’s quite a bit better than some twenty years your senior.”

Ori blinked. “Really?” He suddenly remembered that the other drawings he’d made since he’d arrived had taken place in his room, for the most part.

Balin chuckled. “There are a fair number of dwarves who stumble around, trying to figure out how, only to embarrass themselves in public before they get the knack of it.”

Ori opened his mouth, and then closed it when the words died in his throat. Which, of course, was when he blurted out, “Master, are you saying I can _control_ the soulspeaking?”

Balin stared at him. “You didn’t know you could?”

Ori shook his head mutely.

Balin frowned at him. “Why didn’t your brother tell you?”

“Dori doesn’t have a soulmate,” Ori said. “He said that our parents were soulmates, and he told me about the headaches that could happen, but that was all he knew. Well, that, and to keep all the soulspoken craft.”

Balin shook his head, looking astonished. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shook his head and composed himself. When he met Ori’s gaze again, he asked, “Have you ever tried to deliberately soulspeak before?”

“Start the conversation myself?” Ori said, remembering how Dori had phrased it months ago. He shook his head. “I’m not sure how.”

Balin nodded. “I see. Well, when you’re able to start soulspeakings yourself instead of having them ambush you, you can start controlling them. When I learned I could soulspeak with calligraphy, I found it helped to imagine all of my cares, worries, and thoughts were like a pool of water. Then I pictured them draining out of me and flowing away like a river.” At Ori’s confused look, he explained, “If you’re too anxious or concentrating on other things, your soul won’t have your undivided attention. You have to meet your soul halfway if you want the conversation to make any sense.”

Ori nodded slowly, beginning to understand. “But I haven’t been calm each time I’ve soulspoken. Well, except for the first time, but I didn’t know what was happening.”

“It’s all right, lad. It’s fairly typical for your first few soulspeakings to happen when you’re stressed. After a while, you’ll discover that they start to happen when you’re much calmer, and then you can learn to control them without too much trouble. Unfortunately, it takes a great deal of time and practice.”

Ori nodded.

“Like I said before, if you need privacy to soulspeak, just ask,” Balin said with a reassuring smile.

“Thank you, Master.”

“And don’t forget to copy that page over,” he said with a wink. “I want to know what happens next.”

Ori rolled his eyes with a fond smile. “Yes, Master.”

***

_“Beggin’ yer pardon, Sir Bruni, sir, but I was wantin’ to clarify something.”_

_Bruni turned just enough in his saddle to regard his squire. Andvari was a young lad, not more than sixty at the most, and already considered a consummate veteran of all matters squirely and… less reputable. Many a long journey had been whiled away by the squire’s amusing anecdotes of farmer’s daughters he’d charmed and vicious squirrels he had slain in battle. This interruption, however, was startling, making Bruni reflect on the last few hours -- indeed, Andvari had been uncharacteristically silent._

_“Speak, Andvari,” Bruni murmured. “You know I would know your mind at all times.”_

_“Exceptin’, o’ course, when you’re fighting a battle,” Andvari quipped._

_Bruni laughed merrily, remembering the first battle they’d fought together when Andvari would not keep quiet. “Even so. Speak, and I shall hear.”_

_“All right,” Andvari said. “So, we’re going to fight a dragon, eh? And it’s only the two of us together?”_

_“Indeed so,” Bruni said with a nod. “Might and valor shall win the day. The bards shall sing of our honor and heroism for centuries to come.”_

_Andvari nodded, as though his master had said a very solemn truth. “That’s nice,” he said, “but if we’re the only ones around to get burnt to a crisp, who’s going to tell the tale of how we died?”_

Ori snorted. He liked Andvari already.

***

Ori was in the middle of copying Bruni’s highly-implausible fight with a cold-drake when there came a knock at the door.

Setting down his paperwork, Balin frowned at the door before giving Ori a curious glance. “Are you expecting anyone, lad?”

Ori shook his head, just as puzzled as Balin was.

“Get the door, then, would you?”

Ori got up, opening the door to reveal the guard who’d brought him to Dwalin’s office a day or so ago. “Can we help you?” he asked, ducking his head out into the hallway and keeping his voice low.

The guard nodded. “There’s a dwarf waiting at the front entrance for Ori. He says he has something to--”

When Ori realized who the guard must be referring to, he turned to Balin. “It’s for me after all, Master. I’ll be back.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose in surprise before he nodded. “All right, lad, but be quick about it. The work won’t finish itself.”

“Yes, Master, I will,” Ori said quickly before ducking into the hallway, much to the guard’s surprise. “Sorry about the misunderstanding. The dwarf who’s waiting for me -- does he have red hair? And is he wearing clothes that are too big for him?”

The guard nodded before leading the way. “Yes, sir. He’s got a large book that he isn’t letting anyone touch except for you.”

Ori frowned, a bit surprised by Nidi’s sudden sense of loyalty, and wondered if Dori was behind it. “Why didn’t you let him in, then?”

The guard shot Ori an unamused look. “Orders.”

“Orders?” Ori repeated blankly. “But I’m able to come and go as I please. Why wouldn’t Nidi?”

The guard snorted. “We don’t know that dwarf from an copper vein in the wall. And if you think that you’re leaving here unescorted, you must not’ve heard about the new protocols.”

“New protocols?” Ori felt a bit silly for repeating everything the guard said, but he couldn’t help but be absolutely mystified. Master Balin had mentioned he wasn’t going to be running as many errands as before, but the guards having orders specifically about _him_ was a bit of a shock.

The guard nodded firmly.

As they walked down the corridors, Ori belatedly realized who had most likely made the orders the guard had mentioned. While he wondered just what these new protocols entailed, the guard led him to the front entrance to find Nidi standing visibly apart from the guards, looking like he wanted to be anywhere on Middle-Earth than where he was standing while holding onto the unwieldy tome Ori had left behind at Dori’s house. With the way he was shifting from leg to leg, he looked like he’d stolen it from the library himself instead of running an errand.

“Hello, Nidi,” Ori said, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the younger dwarf’s discomfort.

Nidi glared at the guards one last time (which they returned with the weight of visible arms and armor backing them up) before turning to Ori. Looking at Ori with practiced dismissiveness, he snorted. “Mister Dori said to give this to you and only you,” he said by way of explanation, shoving the tome into Ori’s arms. “He says hello, and don’t get into trouble, or he’ll break your neck.”

Ori blinked, wobbling for a moment before righting himself. “Did he really say that?”

Nidi rolled his eyes. “Close enough. The tosh says he’s in good hands.” Surprisingly enough, he blushed a brilliant red before turning on his heel and starting to walk back to the city proper.

“Wait!” Ori yelped, shooting the guards an apologetic look for the noise. “I couldn’t convince you to--”

“No,” Nidi snapped so quickly that Ori blinked at him. “I ain’t doing no more fetching and carrying for nobody. Already had enough of that when I was at Mister Dori’s.” He looked like he’d swallowed fuzzy mushrooms. “You said to bring that here, and I did.”

Ori watched as the younger dwarf’s face got nearly as red as his hair. “Nidi? Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“ _No,_ ” Nidi snapped again. ”Bye.”

And with that, he stormed off. The guards turned to Ori, looking as curious as possible without being unprofessional. Ori gave them all a look that said he didn’t know anymore than they did.

He turned and headed back to Balin's office, shifting the heavy tome from arm to arm and idly wondering why it was so unnecessarily large to begin with.

Balin glanced up when he entered the room, only to light up when he saw what Ori was carrying. “Ah! I was wondering where that had gone to.”

Ori cleared his throat apologetically. “Sorry, Master. I had been bringing it back with me from the library when I heard that Dori was in trouble. I had a friend bring it when he had the chance.”

Balin nodded, motioning for the book and clearing a space on his desk. Ori set it down with some trouble, but as soon as he did, Balin moved in for the kill, easing the cover open and then flipping through pages while muttering under his breath.

Ori alternated between looking at the rapidly-turned pages, and Balin’s intent frown. Tilting his head to one side as the pages were carefully, yet quickly turned, Ori frowned himself. “What’s so important about this book, Master?”

“Fortifications, preservation, warfare…” Balin muttered before he seemed to remember his student had asked a question. He looked up from the book with a distracted look that Ori only ever saw when his master had been eyebrows-deep in contracts, and had been interrupted mid-sentence. ”Hmm?”

“The book?” Ori gently prodded. “What is it?”

Balin blinked. “Oh, it’s a book of spells, set down during the First Age. I’d been meaning to borrow it from the library, but it was never available.”

Ori frowned. “Spells? You mean the way to create secret doors?”

Balin chuckled. “Not quite, lad, at least, not entirely. It’s true that we know the secret of creating doors that can only be opened under specific conditions, but there are other magics that we as a race have learned and developed over the centuries.”

Ori looked down at the book curiously, only for his face to turn a bright red as he saw a dwarf and a dwarrowdam locked in mid-coitus. “Um…”

Balin blinked at him before turning back to the book and laughing out loud. “Unfortunately, some of these spells are purely speculation.” He turned the page, revealing a page full of text without any more illustrations, though one heading read, ‘On the Subject of Ensuring Dwarrowdam Children’.

Ori kept his gaze firmly locked on his master’s face. “I see.”

At least he didn’t have to wonder anymore about why Nidi didn’t want to have anything more to do with the book.

***

_“Rhis, you must come see this!”_

_Rhis lifted her head from her work, carefully massaging the back of her neck and gently brushing aside the wayward lock of hair from in front of her eyes. “Jaris, what are you doing? Or would it ease my mind more if I weren’t aware of it?”_

_Jaris, her stout arms carrying a large, wooden box into the smithy, gave her a sad expression. “Of course not! Mahal’s beard, you and your way with words!” she huffed, heading for an empty counter and setting the box down with more care than Rhis had seen her use. “Come here! You must come see this!”_

_“But my work--” Rhis turned back to the half-finished blade, and upon seeing Jaris’ sad, brown eyes, she sighed heavily and set the blade down to join her companion. “I sincerely hope this is worth losing time for a com--”_

_Inside of the box, a puppy yipped._

_Rhis blinked. “That’s a dog.”_

_Jaris grinned. “Indeed it is. Isn’t he adorable?”_

_“It’s a dog,” Rhis repeated, overcome with confusion and growing worry. “Where did you find it?”_

_“Oh,” Jaris said, looking away, guilt writ large on her round features. “Around.”_

_“Where?” Rhis demanded._

_“From the newest commander’s tent?” Jaris answered with a grin._

_Rhis groaned and wondered briefly if her friendship with Jaris was Mahal’s way of keeping Jaris from getting herself killed, or to drive Rhis to die sooner._

Ori stared, reread the last few paragraphs, and found himself laughing helplessly. Apparently, friends like Fili and Kili weren’t as uncommon as he’d originally thought.

***

Ori carefully set the newest chapter underneath of Patience, turning the skull so it faced Balin’s chair, and was about to tuck one of his worn-down quills into the skull’s teeth when the door opened, revealing Balin.

“Another chapter?” Balin asked eagerly, sitting down and waving away the quill in Ori’s hands. “Never mind that, lad. You can go.”

Ori blinked, feeling the need to point out, “As much as I don’t want to bite the coin to see if it’s real gold, it’s early in the afternoon, Master.”

Balin picked up the orc skull and the newly-finished chapter, only to set them aside carefully to clear the space on his desk in front of him. Ori was about to ask why his master didn’t leap on the new chapter as he usually did when he saw Balin carefully set down the large tome that Ori had fetched for him from the library, much to Ori’s surprise.

Flipping open to a page that he’d had bookmarked, Balin eyed Ori sternly. “Aye, and Fili and Kili seem to be getting into mischief. No one’s seen them all morning, and it’s starting to worry the servants. I’ll say that your assignment for the rest of the day is to find them and fetch them back, if you can manage it.”

Ori groaned, his shoulders slumping both from annoyance at having to be the minder for two dwarves who could get into trouble _accidentally_ , and because slumping helped relieve the crick in his neck that had started two hours ago. Rubbing it gingerly, he sighed and said, “Yes, Master.”

“Good lad,” Balin said, turning his attention back to the tome. “Off you go, and don’t come back until they’re returned to their uncle.”

Ori nodded, though Balin wasn’t paying attention, and left the room.

***

It took a suspiciously short amount of time to find Fili and Kili, and they looked surprisingly nonchalant for two princes who had been gone “all morning”. In fact, they were at one of the smaller training grounds, away from the general flow of comings-and-goings, with Fili practicing a fighting form with two swords, and Kili shooting at a target painted onto a large broadcloth. Knowing better than to surprise anyone practicing with weaponry, Ori stood to one side and waited for a pause in the practice before pointedly clearing his throat.

Kili turned around where he stood, and grinned when he saw who it was. “Ori!”

Fili aimed a low swipe at an imaginary opponent’s legs and struck in a one-two strike with each sword before turning as well. “Master Balin finally let you out, did he? Swallow too many dustbunnies?”

Ori rolled his eyes. “For your information, I’ve _never_ swallowed a dustbunny, and I was given an assignment.” Fili and Kili looked uninterested until he added, “To find the two of you and take you back to your uncle. No one’s seen you two all morning.”

Fili and Kili traded a confused look before turning back to Ori. “We’ve been here training like Thorin asked us to,” Fili said with a frown.

“Yeah.” Kili nodded. “He said not to move from this room until we’d done a hundred repetitions without any mistakes. Why would he send you to find us if he knew where we were?”

Ori shook his head. “It wasn’t Master Thorin who sent me. It was Master Balin.”

Fili frowned. “Have you been working especially hard lately?” he asked, sounding almost like Dori for a moment.

Ori blinked, and then shrugged. “Master Balin’s had me doing more than the usual work while I’ve been learning Tengwar, and then there’s the copying job--” Ori suddenly remembered it wasn’t in his best interests to talk about what exactly he was copying to these two in particular. “But it’s not anything that complicated,” he said quickly. Inspiration struck. “Just an old book that Master Balin has in his personal collection that he wanted to copy because the original’s about to fall apart.”

He mentally breathed a sigh of relief when the brothers looked politely bored.

“So,” Fili said slowly, “more work than usual?”

Ori nodded, and then frowned. “Why are you asking?”

Kili snorted. “After the time that you threw the ink pot at us, we made an agreement with Master Balin.”

Ori blinked, looking between the two of them. “Agreement?”

Fili nodded. “If you were working too hard, we were to drag you off to have a drink--”

“Or do something _fun_.” Kili grinned. “But, well, since we’ve been so busy because Uncle caught us stealing his books, we haven’t had much of a chance to do anything with you.”

“We go out for drinks,” Ori protested.

“Master Dwalin says that we need to be doing something other than drinking all our training away,” Kili made a face, sounding like he was quoting the dwarf himself.

For some reason, Ori felt his spine stiffening. “He doesn’t control how you spend your time when you’re not training with him.”

Kili shook his head, looking surprised. “Well, no--”

“But he’s right that we need to keep up our training,” Fili grumbled. “We had our backsides handed to us yesterday.”

“Let me guess,” Ori said with a long-suffering sigh, “if you can turn around and hand the other recruits their backsides, your training regimen will get lighter?” At the brothers’ surprised looks, Ori rolled his eyes. “It seems to be a good way to motivate you, seeing as how you didn’t mind stealing books from your uncle on your master’s say-so.”

Fili snorted, sheathing his swords. “You’ve got us there.”

Ori looked at the two of them for a long moment, taking in the broadcloth that Kili had been using for target practice and then turning to look at Fili. “How have the repetitions been going?”

“I’ve gotten to seventy-five,” Fili said.

“And how many mistakes have you made?” Ori asked with a smile.

Fili gave him an annoyed look. “None, thank you.”

“Well, _I’ve_ gotten through my repetitions,” Kili said with a grin. “I’ve just been shooting arrows for fun.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “You have not. After you finish firing at the target straight on, you’re supposed to do it while walking left and right.”

Kili stuck his tongue out at his brother. “I already did that too.”

Ori eyed the target, and then found himself struck by inspiration. While it was true that he happened to like hunching over a desk and copying over pages of Tengwar (and being paid quite handsomely for any pages of a horribly-written romance), he found that he wanted to do something that required a bit more exercise. And it had been a while since he’d had a chance to practice with his slingshot....

When he turned back to the brothers, only to find them bickering, he cleared his throat pointedly. And when that didn’t work, he said, “I hate to interrupt, but would you mind helping me out with my own target practice?”

Both dwarves turned to him in obvious surprise. “Target practice?”

***

_When Bruni stopped his deadly blade-dancing, Frosti ran up to him with a ferocious scowl on his face._

_"By Mahal's beard, what was_ that _?" The older dwarf demanded, the frost-white braids in his hair that were his namesake bouncing and quivering in outrage. "You nearly killed half of your squad! This is to be a training exercise, you dolt!"_

_"But I was soulspeaking, Master Fr--" Bruni protested, lowering his sword._

_"Soulspeaking? Pah!" Frosti boomed, his face reddening until he looked like a tomato topped with a healthy covering of snow. "Daydreaming's more like it! Never had a warrior on my watch soulspeak in the middle of a fight! Soulspeaking's for dwarflings who're too romantic for their own good!"_

_"I'm sorry, Master," Bruni said glumly, finally sheathing his blade and wishing it didn't feel quite so awkward in his hands. There had to be a better smith who could balance such a blade for him. True, his own blade was fine, but there was still something not quite right about it._

_Alas, the vision of beauty he had seen while he was drilling might have something to do with his awkwardness. She was strong, with raven tresses, though alas, he could never seem to see her face with any degree of certainty. Somehow, he knew in his heart that she sported a single lock of hair that hung in front of her eyes, giving her an impish look that he had trouble ignoring._

_"Bruni!" Frosti yelled at him, jerking his attention back from his soulspeaking vision. "If you have enough time to be off daydreaming, perhaps some running will do you good! Fifty laps, full armor!"_

_"But--"_

_"Now!"_

Ori nearly gave himself a headache from rolling his eyes. The prose and dialogue were pretty awful sometimes, but something he was surprised to find himself annoyed with was how heavy-handed the author was with some of the other characters. It was obvious that Frosti was going to be a hard-bitten, old soldier who had seen numerous wars and didn't have a family waiting for him at home. He was there to either provide common sense to the hero, be the cynic who told the hero he wasn't waiting and thinking enough, or he might even have been a potential rival for the heroine. He was fairly sure the last one wouldn't be true, especially with how the author went on for a few paragraphs describing how Frosti was well into his age. But with the way the narrative was going, he wouldn’t be surprised.

***

Nyr and Austri were both taller than the average dwarf, very impressive in their city watch uniforms, and the only way that Ori could tell them apart was by the color of their beards, and the fact that Austri's nose was a little bit longer. Or maybe he was thinking of Nyr.

As he carried the tome with as much care as he could manage, given how unwieldy it was, he couldn't help but feel like he was being braced between two stone walls who probably forgot how to smile when they were recruited for the Watch. He'd stammered where they were heading, and they’d nodded as one.

It was extremely strange to see dwarves who would ordinarily ignore him getting out of the way and openly gawking as the three of them navigated through the busy streets. Ori was fairly sure he heard some people wonder why two guards were escorting him (along with a few people wondering what royal family he belonged to). When they finally got to the library, the guards followed him inside, one holding the door open while the other preceded him.

It was easy to tell who were the apprentices and who were the librarians -- while the apprentices started to panic, the librarians glanced over and went back to their work as if nothing unusual was happening.

Master Hamal came out from behind the front desk, eying the guards who were standing within striking distance before turning his attention to Ori himself. "Ori, my lad! It's good to see you!"

Ori ducked his head with a smile he couldn't help. "It's good to see you too, sir. I'm sorry that we held onto this book for so long--"

Hamal stopped him with a raised hand. "Think nothing of it." He leaned in, dropping his voice from a genial boom to a dull roar. "I heard about the trouble that happened. Are you all right? How's your brother?"

Ori nodded. "Dori's all right," he said, hoping that he wasn't lying. As much as Balin had told him what details he could of Dori's protector, he wanted to see for himself that his brother was all right. "So am I. One of the city watch was there to help us get out."

At the mention, the two guards straightened their shoulders and managed to look even more intimidating than the moment Ori had first seen them.

Hamal eyed the two of them. "They think you're still in danger."

Ori blushed. "It never hurts to be careful."

Hamal nodded approvingly. "Good. I'd hate to think of something happening to you."

Ori cleared his throat, feeling awkward talking about the watch while two guards were standing right in front of him. “Ah, yes, well, I wanted to return the book--”

“That’s right,” Hamal said. “Here, wait a moment.” He caught the attention of one of the librarians, and as Ori watched, the two of them murmured quickly to each other before Hamal turned back to him. “I’ll take you to my office. It’s right this way.”

As he circled the front desk and headed for the back, Ori spluttered, “We don’t have to-- I’m sure you’re very busy, and I wouldn’t want to--”

Hamal glanced over his shoulder and snorted loud enough that one of the guards had to stifle a snicker. “The day I’m too busy to catch up with you, especially now that you’re an apprentice, is the day I resign.”

The offices were all tucked along a narrowish hallway, behind a door marked STAFF ONLY. As they passed various offices, Ori could see one or two with lanterns burning away, revealing rooms in various states of tidiness. It didn’t prepare him for Hamal’s office.

The room itself would have been cramped, had it not been for the piles of papers, books in various states of repair lining the bookshelves built into the walls, and the fact that there didn’t seem to be any chairs. Hamal paused for a moment, stacking scrolls of parchment haphazardly to the edges of his overcrowded desk and then grabbing the book from Ori’s arms. “Here, lad. Don’t want you to tire yourself out with lugging this around.”

He motioned at a pile of books and papers that seemed to be about chair height before he stopped and realized his mistake. As Ori watched, dumbfounded, the pile was cleared away to reveal a chair with a cushion that had seen better centuries and had probably not been dusted in as much time. “Here you are, have a seat.”

Ori perched on the end of the chair, not quite sure it could handle his weight, and smiled. “I didn’t realize your office was nearly so….” When he couldn’t find a way to finish the sentence diplomatically, he let his voice trail off.

Hamal snorted. “Crowded? Cramped? Claustrophobic? Take your pick of any word that begins with the eighteenth rune and means ‘not having enough space to fart in, let alone breathe’, lad. I’ve only been using it for the past ninety years or so.” At Ori’s surprised look, he winked. “You should count yourself lucky, lad. Before we had that bookworm infestation about forty years back, it used to be worse.”

Ori blinked. “Worse?”

Hamal looked at him for a long moment, and then burst out laughing. It took a minute or two, with the guards eying him warily from the doorway, but when he finally recovered, he wiped his eyes and grinned at Ori. “So! That bit of research that you did, did anything ever come of it?”

It took Ori longer than it really should have before he realized what Hamal was referring to. When he noticed the librarian’s gaze flick over to the guards, he also remembered that there were some things he wanted to keep private. Nodding his thanks, he said, “Ah, well, sort of?”

Hamal raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I did find one book -- it had gotten wedged behind a few other books on the shelf -- and that was pretty informative. There was one tale in particular that I meant to ask about, since the last page of the tale was missing from the tome it was in. Dungan and Nola?”

Hamal’s eyebrows rose sharply. “I thought we’d weeded that book long ago, or moved it to one of the special collections.”

“You know the tale I’m referring to?” Ori asked, eager and surprised. Given how Hamal hadn’t talked in detail about soulspeaking like he usually did when he knew about a subject Ori was researching, Ori hadn’t thought that Hamal would be familiar with the tome in question.

Hamal nodded slowly. “That, and the other tales that I’m fairly certain are in the tome you found. Was it in the section I directed you to?”

Ori nodded, starting to get worried at the librarian’s tone. “It had fallen behind the shelves. What’s so special about that tome? Apart from the obvious, I mean.”

Hamal’s frown was worried, even as he sat back in his chair. “The obvious, right,” he said with a snort. “Lad, those tales can give a distorted view of things. I had a colleague use that tome in his defense when he became a master, so the book has enough academic merit to pass muster, but it’s an example of heavy bias. Whoever wrote that had a bone to pick with the process, and it’s not something you should base the bulk of your research on.” 

“What if the author’s bone to pick was because his story was similar?” Ori asked. He’d meant to sound nonchalant, but the two guards at the door reminded him of Dwalin, and thinking about Dwalin never helped him to stay calm.

Hamal frowned at him. “It sounds like your story might be similar as well.”

“Um, yes, well,” Ori said quickly, wanting desperately to not talk about Dwalin with a librarian he’d known since he was a dwarfling, and especially not in front of two guards whose names he kept getting confused. “Stories have a way of… changing. Over time.” He coughed. “How’s the library been? Any promising dwarflings borrowing ink bottles and grabbing more parchment than they should?”

Hamal snorted, his smirk saying quite clearly that he was aware of the subject change, and would allow it for the moment. “There’s always one or two, but I don’t think I’ve seen a dwarfling with your drive, or your natural talent.”

Now Ori felt awkward for a different reason. “I just copied what was in front of me, is all. It wasn’t that special.”

Hamal shook his head with an affectionate look. “Of course it wasn’t. It was so unremarkable that you got taken on as a scribe without any prior training other than your letters, and nowhere near the leg-up that being a native of Ered Luin would’ve given you.”

Ori smiled a little. “I can’t take all the credit. I seem to remember a grumpy librarian who kept an eye on me and reminded me there was a difference between the forty-seventh and forty-ninth runes.”

“Flatterer.” Hamal chuckled. “So, how’s the old warhorse doing? He keeping you working to all hours of the night, getting calluses on your hands?”

Ori nodded, showing Hamal his hands with a smile.

***

_“That blade isn’t for sale, sir!” the vision of beauty objected firmly, trying to beat him to the rack of blades where a particularly fine specimen had caught his eye._

_“You wouldn’t allow a potential customer to at least see your work, would you?” he asked with a soft smile. He knew her face because he had seen it so often before, on the practice field, and in his dreams. He knew it was cruelty itself to toy with her now, but the way that the light danced in her sapphire eyes made him wish to tease her more._

_At once, he lifted the contested blade and unsheathed it. All at once, he felt his blood sing._

Ori couldn’t stop himself from wincing, and he really, _really_ hoped nothing was going to happen inside of Rhis’ forge. There were some things he really didn’t want to read about. Out of self-defense, he’d started reading ahead in the story to make sure he wouldn’t make mistakes or groan aloud while he was in the middle of copying pages. After it had taken three sheets of paper to copy over one particular page near the beginning of the story because of the sheer inanity of the prose, he’d learned his lesson.

_”My, my, truly a princely blade!” Bruni had meant to tease her, but he couldn’t help the note of awe in his voice. He gave himself room to swing freely, and soon, the blade was spinning in his hands, balanced so perfectly, and so light that he could scarcely feel its weight._

_His vision of beauty, his soulmate with her lock of impish, black curls, stared at him in open amazement._

_When he finally stopped his flourishing, he turned to her, ever so slightly breathless. “This is an amazing blade, and perfectly balanced! How much for it?”_

_She stared at him. “I’m sorry?”_

_“How much for it?” he asked again, this time a breathless smile on his face. “And for you?”_

Ori groaned, rubbing his temples and telling himself for the eighty-seventh time that he wasn’t allowed to edit the story, no matter how much it was badly needed.

***

The next time that Ori went out with Fili and Kili, he couldn’t say he was surprised when Nyr and Austri came with them. He hadn’t seen them very often since his visit to the library a few days prior, but then, he’d been so busy with his Tengwar lessons and copying over the romance novel that he hadn’t had the time to run errands.

Upon seeing the two guards, dressed in durable leathers that made them look more like miners, Fili and Kili had shot Ori curious looks, but after Ori explained and then told them to just ignore his two new shadows, the brothers mentally shrugged and returned to the business of complaining that Dwalin and Thorin seemed to be working together to make sure that they never won any of their sparring practices with the recruits.

When they’d reached the Miner’s Drift, they ensconced themselves at a table, Kili not missing a beat as he described, complete with sweeping gestures and grand, melodramatic language, how the two dwarves he’d faced surrounded him and took him down, but not before he’d managed to knock one of them flat on his ass first.

Fili returned with the drinks, only for the three of them to discover that the guards were lining empty spaces along the bar, blending into the crowd with surprisingly little effort. Ori was fairly sure the only reason he could pick them out was due to having been on the receiving end of their stares before.

As the night wore on, the three of them drank and laughed and complained. Ori let slip that he could never remember which guard was which, which led Kili to demand that the two of them come over and introduce themselves properly instead of “playing with themselves in the dark corners.” If Ori had been more sober, he would’ve tried to shush his friend, but as it was, he sputtered a giggle and couldn’t stop when he got started.

Fili frowned at the dead soldiers flipped into careful piles on the table, and blinked owlishly when he saw how few were in front of Ori. “Huh.” He looked up at Ori and shook his head, sloshing a bit in his seat. “All right, Ori. Time to get you home.”

“What?” Ori demanded, swaying a little in his indignation. “Why?”

“You told us to cut you off,” Kili began, only to hiccup loudly. He blinked a few times, and turned back to Fili. “What was I saying?”

“Cut him off,” Fili muttered.

The understanding that only comes to the truly plastered lit up his eyes. “That’s right. We’re supposed to cut you off when you start giggling. S’a rule.”

“That’s a stupid rule,” Ori grumbled, trying to glare at Kili, and only managing to look vaguely annoyed. “Who came up with that?”

“You did,” Fili declared, wobbling his way to his feet. “C’mon. Up.”

It took a bit longer than usual to get the three of them out of their chairs all at once, but when they did, and they were bobbing and weaving through the tables (loudly apologizing to any dwarves who they ended up jostling in the process), the two guards materialized out of thin air to support Kili and Ori, who seemed to be stumbling worse than Fili.

It really was nice to have help with getting the three of them home, Ori thought happily to himself. Having to mother Fili and Kili into walking in relatively straight lines and making sure they didn’t bash their noses against doors and walls had always felt strange to a dwarf who was usually the target of over-protective mothering. Still, having assistance meant that he didn’t have to think too hard when it came to getting home. He just had to put one foot in front of the other. And then that foot in front of the other. And then that foot, and that foot, and--

“Hey,” Kili asked suddenly, almost too loudly in the growing stillness of the street. Though, when Ori thought about it, this street didn’t look quite so familiar to him. “Do you think we could--”

Ori turned just in time to see Nyr’s arm (or was it Austri’s?) lift from Kili’s waist, turn the dwarf around to face him, and then punch him in the side of the head hard enough for the younger dwarf’s head to snap away from the blow, and for him to fall to the ground in the boneless slump of the unconscious.

“Kili!” Fili shouted, launching himself at the guard, though he looked more like he was stumbling towards him than charging at him.

It was then that Ori remembered that the other guard was holding him around the waist. Before he could react, the arm around him tightened, and suddenly, there was an arm wrapped around his neck from behind.

He remembered yelping, because he remembered seeing Fili turn to him.

But then the arm squeezed tighter around his neck. His vision went black.

And he didn’t remember anything after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that Chapter 20 is in the works. I think you'll like it? :D?


	20. Adrift in Dark Waters (TW: Torture)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori is fairly positive that Bruni and Rhis _never_ had to deal with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning! This chapter includes descriptions of torture! For any reader who wants to be able to skip it and leave it to your imagination, CTRL+F and type the following sentence:
> 
> "A warm hand gently touched his cheek, just under his injured eye."
> 
> I think that should allow you to skip the parts where Ori gets tortured, but also an exchange where Ori tells his interrogator to just kill him already.
> 
> If you're just looking for the active whumping to stop, and you're okay with Ori being in a bit of a dark place (and in a lot of pain), then CTRL+F, and type the following sentence:
> 
> "Time stretched into an endless black."

Ori woke up.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn’t feel this awake. He wasn’t sure _why_ he felt like that, but he was pretty sure that he should be feeling sleepy, or groggy, or something. Instead, he had a bit of a headache, like he’d banged it against a wall or a door, but that was about it.

He opened his eyes, and then frowned when he didn’t see any difference.

He closed them, concentrating on his senses. It didn’t feel like there was anything tied around his head like a blindfold. When he took a slow breath, it didn’t smell like his head had been shoved into a bag or a sack. No, as far as he could tell, he should’ve been able to see the room around him.

He tried opening his eyes again to see if that would fix the problem.

 _Of course not,_ Ori grumbled to himself. Still frowning, he concentrated on his body, trying to figure out why he felt… off.

He could tell that he was standing, he was still dressed, and his back was pressed against a stone wall. Cool metal cuffs encased his wrists, keeping them in place against the wall above his shoulders. They felt like they were big enough to let his hands slip right through, but when he tried, he found that his hands were only just slightly too big. If he wanted to get them free, he’d probably have to do something drastic to manage it. As much as he wanted to get out of here (wherever “here” was), he shied away from the idea of trying to break the bones in his hands so he could get them loose.

Of course, the idea was stupid because when he tried to move his feet, he had the same trouble. There was the same unyielding metal just above his ankles, leaving him the tiniest bit of wiggle room, but nothing else. If he tried to push himself backwards against the restraints on his wrists and ankles, he felt how solid the wall was behind him.

Closing his eyes (even though it didn’t really make much of a difference at this point), he breathed in slowly through his nose and noticed that the air in the room was just a little colder than he was used to. Master Balin kept his office cool enough to make sure that his books weren’t in danger of being damaged, but this felt a little colder still. The air was sharp and clean, and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own breathing and his heartbeat.

Just as he was trying to figure out what else he could do, a door swung open somewhere to his right. Two sets of footsteps -- heavy boots on a hard floor, but not a stone one -- entered the room. Ori had never really paid attention to how footsteps had sounded before, but something was muffling them.

“You didn’t blindfold him?” came a voice that sounded eerily familiar, though Ori was having trouble placing it.

“My employer wanted to verify his identity before we proceeded,” replied a low, warm voice. As Ori listened to it, part of him wanted to burrow into it like a blanket on a winter morning. His survival instinct, however, was reminding him that this was not a dwarf that he knew, nor one that sounded like he had good intentions.

“You can see for yourself,” the first voice growled, and suddenly Ori recognized it.

“Nyr?” he blurted out, turning his head in the direction of the voice.

Both voices stopped, and Ori felt like there were eyes watching him.

Ori frowned sightlessly, sighing in irritation through his nose. “It _is_ you, isn’t it?”

The silence was charged, and then the warm voice spoke again. “I presume that you followed my instructions to the letter?”

Ori found himself wondering if someone was leaning in close to his face, looking at his eyes.

“This isn’t our fault,” Nyr snapped, and if Ori hadn’t been sure before, he was sure of it now. Only Nyr had been able to sound like Dori when he was annoyed. “You can’t pin this one on us.”

“No, of course not,” the warm voice said amiably. It was strange to find his new kidnapper sounded like someone discussing the day’s business instead of talking about a prisoner. “It appears, my young dwarf, that you’re suffering from an uncommon side effect of the drug that my… associate has given you.”

Ori felt air brush lightly against his face. As he turned to it, the voice said, “Ah. I imagine the room looks quite dark to you?”

Not sure whether he should cooperate or not, Ori admitted, “...yes.”

“I see.” For a wild moment, Ori found himself imagining Master Balin standing in front of him, his hands holding some sort of book while he was in full lecture-mode. “To be honest, I like for my guests to be able to see what I’m going to do to them, but the blindness should certainly make things interesting.”

“Look,” Nyr growled, “I don’t give a rat’s arse what you’re going to do. I want my money.”

There was a deep, faintly exasperated sigh that reminded Ori vividly of his eldest brother. “Speak with your business partner. I left all the details with him. You may go.”

With a curse, Nyr’s heavy footsteps stomped out of the room. A heavy-sounding door slammed shut.

“Well, he was quite unpleasant, wouldn’t you agree?” the voice said in a friendly tone.

Ori set his jaw, trying not to get lulled by how comforting the voice sounded. He tried to imagine that the voice was actually an orc, or a goblin -- anything to keep from letting his guard down.

“Oh, you’re going to remain silent now?” the voice asked mildly. “Can’t say that I blame you, really. Seeing as how I have a job to perform, it’s not like we can really be friends about this.”

“Who’s paying you?” Ori asked quickly before he lost his nerve.

“Ah ah ah,” the voice said, gently chiding. “I’m the one asking the questions here, not you. Best for you not to think about who hired me.”

Ori tried to swallow past the lump of fear lodged in his throat. “What did he hire you for?”

“To get information out of you, of course,” the voice purred.

Ori jumped when a warm hand patted his cheek.

“No one hires me unless it’s for something quite important,” he said. “Though, between you and me, I’m going to be demanding a bigger cut when all is said and done. A barely adequate workspace, and unreasonable time constraints? I tell you, how is a dwarf supposed to earn a decent living if everything has to be rushed?”

If it weren’t for the fact that Ori was cuffed against a wall and that he couldn’t _see anything_ , he might have been inclined to be sympathetic.

There was the sound of metal being scraped against stone in small, thin slices. “And then there was the botch-up with your friends, or so I’ve heard from my associate. I should demand an extra thousand guilders for the inconvenience, really.”

Ori’s eyebrows had lifted at the figure, but then his attention latched onto something else. “Inconvenience?” 

“Yes, indeed,” the voice said sadly, sounding faintly regretful. “You see, I like to take my time.”

Ori shuddered at the way the voice caressed the words.

The voice continued as if nothing had happened. “And I can’t very well do that if we have to relocate because my dimwitted associates couldn’t be bothered to kill or kidnap the witnesses.”

Ori breathed in slowly, feeling a surge of hope rise up in him. He’d forgotten about Fili and Kili. If this voice was right, they’d somehow managed to get away from Nyr and Austri. If he could somehow manage to--

“And there you go, thinking that there’s a sliver of hope for you.” The voice sounded indulgent, as though Ori were a misbehaving puppy. “Has anyone ever told you that your face is like an open book?”

Ori frowned. “No.”

“Ah, well,” the voice said. Ori could feel it coming closer to him. “That’s not going to be something you’re going to worry about much longer.”

Ori froze. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not right now, but if you don’t answer my questions, I might have to take certain measures.”

Ori gritted his teeth, breathing slowly through his nose to try to slow down his racing heartbeat. “What did you want to know?”

“Accommodating the interrogator now?” the voice sounded amused. “How kind of you. I have two questions. If you don’t answer me as quickly and thoroughly as I would like, the measures I take will be dreadfully painful for you.”

Ori scowled, but he didn’t think it was all that effective. Especially not with the voice chuckling at him and patting his cheek again.

“Very well,” he said. “Where is your brother Nori?"

Ori blinked. “Nori?”

“Yes,” the voice said with exaggerated patience, “your brother Nori. I _did_ just ask you that question, you know.”

“I just--” Ori frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“Oh?” the voice drawled. “Surely, you’ve noticed that he’s not coming home anymore?”

Ori gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at the voice. He knew better than anyone else that Nori wasn’t coming home because Nori had left Ered Luin. “Yes, I noticed,” he said evenly. “But I don’t know where he went.”

There was a long, exaggerated sigh, and then a hand slapped him.

“That was a warning,” the voice said mildly, as though he were walking along a busy street. “Perhaps I should ask my next question, then.”

“Maybe I can answer it,” Ori said, turning his head back in the direction of the voice.

There was a snort. “Very well. What information does Nori know about Kollr Longshanks?”

Ori snorted himself. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of him, would I?”

“Ah, the impertinence of youth,” the voice said. “Let us return to the first question, and see if we can’t come up with a better answer, shall we?”

Something slammed into his right knee hard. The sudden agony made him shriek.

***

"I told you," Ori moaned, his head hanging limply forward. He could feel the painful bite of the metal cuffs cutting into his wrists, but it hurt more to stand up straight. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." A hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. "And your lies are only inconvenient to me. Where is Nori?"

"The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again, expecting different results," Ori grumbled, wincing as the grip in his hair tightened. And just as suddenly, the hand disappeared.

"You have an _excellent_ point," the voice said cheerfully.

That's when the first punch landed in his gut.

Winded and gasping, Ori couldn't even yelp as another fist slammed into his stomach with the force of a hammer.

"Where is Nori?"

Ori gasped a few times before he could wheeze, "I don't know."

More punches landed on his stomach, just under his ribs, leaving him desperate for air. Ori found himself remembering one time when he was younger when Dori tried his hand at making bread, and how he’d punched at the dough over and over again while he was preparing it. Imagining the same thing happening to his insides made him feel queasy.

"I'm going to ask again, and if you give me the same answer, I'm going to break your nose. Do you understand?"

Ori gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Very well. Where is Nori?"

Ori really didn't want to have his nose broken. It wasn't that great to look at, but it was still his nose. He needed it for smelling things, like the chips Dori fried up whenever he came to visit, or ink drying on parchment. Still, the metal cuffs keeping his wrists and ankles against the wall meant that he couldn't try to dodge. "How am I supposed to answer a question that I don't know the answer to?"

The voice snorted. Just as promised, a fist slammed into his left eye, hard knuckles breaking fragile bone with a sickening crack. Pain exploded inside of his head, and for a nauseating moment, it was as though he could see the bone in his nose shattering into little pieces. He felt a rush of warm blood pour of his nose, dripping into his gasping mouth and making him shudder at the coppery taste. A moment later, his head slammed against the wall behind him with such force that dizzying flashes of light danced in front of his eyes.

"Would you like for me to blacken the other eye?"

He groaned, words slipping away from him as the pain throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His head pounded, and he wanted to throw up.

"Ah, that's right. Your brother has to be able to recognize you," the voice said amiably. "At least a good number of your injuries aren’t going to be on your face, so that’s something. Here, let’s see how these are coming along, shall we?"

A hand emerged from the darkness, almost gentle on his cheek before hands burrowed under his shirt and longjohns, undoing enough buttons to bare Ori’s skin to the air of the room. Ori’s head was swimming in a haze of pain, but he could still feel himself getting embarrassed over this voice uncovering him. For a wild moment, he thought of Dwalin, but then forced himself to focus on his interrogator.

“Ah, you’ll have some goodly bruises when these come into full bloom,” the voice said, but Ori lost track of whatever else he was going to say when fingers prodded and pressed against his stomach like knives.

Ori couldn’t stop himself from shouting, which caused the muscles in his stomach to tense further, sending a fresh wave of agony through him. His stomach churned, threatening to bring up whatever was in it. He swallowed hastily, trying to imagine forcing a lid on a churning barrel of porridge. After a few panicked moments, he felt his stomach reluctantly settle.

“You might want to be careful,” the voice purred. The fingers patted his burning skin before disappearing, setting his clothes to rights. “For now, we’ll take a little break, and when I come back, I’m sure you’ll be more amenable to answering my questions.”

Ori could barely think through the pain, let alone wonder what the voice was talking about. “...what?”

There was a low, dark chuckle, and then suddenly, a wave of ice water drenched him from head to toe, each droplet of water like needles stabbing into every inch of his skin.

If the frigid temperature of the water hadn’t stolen his breath away, he would have screamed. As it was, he jerked and twitched in his manacles, the metal cutting further into his skin, setting off the searing pain in his head. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his soaked clothing. He started shivering so hard that he almost felt like he could shake himself out of his bonds if they weren’t so well-made. Within moments, his teeth were chattering loud enough to sound like a forge full of smiths hammering against the inside of his head.

“And last but not least,” the voice said with a dramatic pause. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too hot while you’re waiting, and then bid you good night. Try to rest if you can, won’t you?”

Ori heard the door open, and then close.

And then the air turned colder.

***

The darkness shattered with a hard slap to the face, just under his left eye.

For a moment, he stood, dazed and confused, wondering where he was before the cold sliced through his wet clothes like knives against his skin. Then his face and knee started throbbing. The manacles around his wrists were searingly cold. A hand grabbed his hair, and it felt like each individual strand was being torn out of his head.

“Good morning.”

When Ori sputtered and gasped, wondering if there were icicles hanging from his eyelashes, a heavy boot slammed down on his left foot.

“I said good morning,” the warm voice said.

“G-good,” Ori wheezed, his teeth chattering loudly. “Morning.”

“That’s much better.” The hand that had slapped him patted him on the face. “Did you sleep well?”

What few thoughts he had were consumed with the pain flaring in his body. His injuries were throbbing, red and angry and hot, while the rest of his skin felt so frozen that he might snap into little pieces if he moved more than an inch or two. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sobbing for sleep. “No.”

“Honesty is so refreshing,” the voice said. “I almost never encounter it in my line of work.”

There was a hiss of something being run across a stone, or so it sounded. Ori set his jaw and tried not to whimper too loudly. When he tried to put weight on his left leg, the foot smarted from being stepped on, but putting weight on his right leg meant that his knee screamed bloody murder.

“Now, where is your brother?”

Ori winced, feeling his swollen eye, his broken nose, the horrible chill in the air that was seeping into his bones. “I don’t know.”

“You’re still clinging to that story?” the voice sounded faintly surprised. “I would have thought you’d try something different.”

There was a fist in his side, hard and fast, that made Ori gasp for air. While Ori continued coughing, the voice asked, “What does your brother know about Kollr Longshanks?”

“You’d--” Ori coughed a few times. “--have t-to ask Nori.”

A gentle snort and a presence standing in front of him were all the warning Ori got before fists slammed into his stomach, first one, then the other. Ori lost count after five.

Ori felt himself start to throw up, and only then did the voice back away.

He had to take long, deep breaths to fight down the nausea. He even tried imagining corking a bottle and keeping it in place before his stomach finally started to calm down.

No sooner had he done so then the fists were back, punctuating words. “Where. Is. Your. Brother?”

Ori shuddered, choking for a moment before fighting it back down. “I--” He coughed a few more times, and felt a little bit of vomit rise up and splash at the back of his mouth. He grimaced and coughed a few times.

A hand returned to his hair, yanking his head until the left half of his face was pressed against the wall behind him. For a wild moment, Ori wondered what purpose it was supposed to serve until his skin started screaming from the searing ice against his cheek. “Well?” 

“I don’t know,” Ori whispered.

“I’m sorry,” the warm voice said amiably, “I didn’t quite hear that.”

Ori’s face was jammed harder against the stone, his swollen skin around his eye making contact.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was the mental image of his nose being broken again, or the pain in his knee, or the pain in his gut, or his clothes hanging like sheets of ice against his skin, or maybe the feeling that he would never be warm again creeping deeper and deeper into his body. Maybe it was all of it at once.

Whatever it was, it was the tipping point. Ori started crying.

“I don’t know!” he sobbed.

A finger reached out and brushed a tear away from his uninjured cheek. “It seems to me that you had better figure it out soon.”

The fists returned, slamming into his stomach in a steady one-two-three-four before it turned into more-more-more-more.

Ori remembered throwing up at some point, drowning in pain.

After an endless amount of fists, there was a bucket of ice water that felt like he was being embraced again by a kitchen full of knives.

His body finally quit, and he passed out.

***

Time stretched into an endless black.

It was as though Ori could feel each drop of water slowly freeze, solidifying in his sweater and absorbing into his braids.

After a few eternities, the pain went from a roaring inferno to a vengeful throb. His belly, his knee, his foot, his hands, and his face took turns pulsing and throbbing, alternating between freezing heat and searing cold.

Somewhere between his limbs stiffening and the blood drying on his lips, the door opened.

Ori breathed in slowly through his mouth, the sharp chill in the air a minor burn in his throat and lungs. He set his jaw to keep from sobbing.

He wanted to say something, anything. That he wasn’t afraid. That he was sure that rescue was coming for him. As soon as he thought of it, he mentally groaned at his own stupidity. This wasn’t a romance, where the hero came in and rescued their kidnapped love and killed invading armies for the crime of keeping them apart.

If he weren’t shivering so much from the cold, he would’ve gagged at the direction his thoughts had turned. As it was, he could hear the sound of heavy bootsteps hesitate.

And then he couldn’t stop himself.

“I already t-told you,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering hard enough to make talking difficult. “I don’t know where Nori is, or what he knows about Kollr Longshanks.”

He winced, waiting for a fist to land in his stomach again. When nothing happened, he set his jaw as firmly as he could manage without causing more pain. The long silence that stretched in the darkness felt more ominous than before, somehow. It was probably because the air itself felt tense with possibilities.

“You’re usually m-more talkative than this,” Ori managed, swallowing and shivering. A small eternity ago, he’d hadn’t been able to keep standing under the weight of his soaked clothes. As a result, he was dangling from his cuffs and trying not to aggravate his injured wrists further. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me, because I’m getting sick of--”

A warm hand gently touched his cheek, just under his injured eye. He flinched and whimpered.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Ori’s good eye widened sightlessly. That _voice_. He’d only heard it once, growling at him, but it was easier to identify than Nyr’s had been, an endless stretch of darkness ago. Despite the warmth against his face, he felt his heartbeat speeding up and his aching stomach twisting with tension.

“M-Mister Dwalin?”

There was a long pause before he heard a firm, sharp voice, quite unlike the voice from before. “Aye.”

Ori shivered with relief, wincing as the metal cuffs dug into the skin of his hands again. “Thank Mahal, I thought you were _him_ ,” he said without thinking. “What’s going on?”

“I’m here to rescue you,” Dwalin growled, as if Ori was deliberately trying to be an idiot.

Ori gritted his teeth, setting off a new wave of pain inside of his head. He could feel his cheeks flushing because it was obvious that Dwalin himself wouldn’t have been involved in the kidnapping scheme himself. He’d been about to reflexively thank him for rescuing him, but now he just wanted to glare at his soulmate.

The too-warm hand that had touched his cheek now took his jaw in a firm but gentle grip, turning his face so that Ori was looking towards his right. He could almost imagine Dwalin staring at his swollen eye and broken nose.

Ori closed his eyes, trying not to feel sick. “Now we have a matching set,” he grumbled, licking his lips and shuddering at the roughness of dried blood against his tongue.

The warm skin disappeared from his jaw, forcing Ori to bite his lip to keep from whimpering at the loss of heat. The sound of metal scraping against metal near his left hand made him turn his head out of habit. Without warning, there was the sound of a key turning, and his hand was freed. His other hand and both of his feet were freed in short order, and before he knew it, he heard Dwalin’s voice.

“Can you walk?” Dwalin demanded.

Ori gritted his teeth, trying to move his right leg forward and gasping as he felt the muscles in his leg locking up. “Give me a minute,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t concerned. When he wriggled his toes in his boots, he was relieved to discover he could still feel them, even if they were screaming in pain at the moment.

“We don’t have a minute,” Dwalin said firmly. “We need to get out of here.”

Ori breathed slowly before frowning uselessly up at him. “Why?”

“The guards we didn’t kill are going to be showing up soon,” Dwalin half-growled.

Ori started to roll his eyes before wincing and reaching up a hand to gingerly cradle his head. His hair felt like it was decorated with icicles. “‘We’? Who’s ‘we’?”

“I said there’s no time, we need to move--”

Large hands grabbed his shoulders in a punishing grip.

Maybe it was a result of having been punched and slapped and drenched and nearly frozen. Maybe it was having to answer two stupid questions he didn’t know the answer to, and his interrogator not believing him when he gave them the only answer he could.

Whatever the reason was, Ori was finished with feeling small and useless and unable to stand up for himself.

“Let go,” he rasped. He concentrated on trying to stay on his feet, but his legs felt like cracked granite that could go at any moment. He tried to take a moment and just _breathe_ , but it aggravated his throbbing headache and his throbbing gut, and made him grit his teeth in a vain attempt to keep the pain down to a dull roar, only for it to rage harder. “You’re going to break my shoulders if you squeeze any harder. _Let go_.”

The large hands disappeared instantly, and Ori found himself wondering why. There was a long silence. When Dwalin spoke, he was gruff. “Here.”

Hands were on him again, taking his left arm and slowly, carefully, gently, wrapping it around broad shoulders. There was something that smelled like well-oiled leather that filled his nose, and under that, a scent that promised long, warm nights in front of a fire.

Ori tensed, trying to reclaim his arm. He shook his head. “I can walk.”

Ori wasn’t surprised that he could almost feel Dwalin’s glare on his skin like a physical touch. He tried not to blush, but he knew it was a losing battle. “I _can_.”

“Aye,” Dwalin said dryly, his voice like the low rumble of settling stone near Ori’s left ear. “And you look like a newborn pony who can’t find his arse from his elbow.”

Ori wished he didn’t feel so weak, because what he wanted most at that moment was to be able to punch Dwalin in his stupid face. “I’m not a child,” he said, pulling harder on his left arm to free it from around Dwalin’s grip. For a wild moment, he felt himself wobbling in place, the air freezing against his wet clothes. The moment he put weight on his right leg -- and the knee that had been kicked a darkness or two ago -- he gasped as pain raced up his leg and joined the chorus resounding in his head.

Gritting his teeth and determined not to show how much he wanted to pass out from the pain, he forced himself to lean against the wall in order to catch his breath. It was a bad move. The wall was colder than he was, but if he was going to be this dwarf’s soulmate, he was going to have to suck up the pain. Dwalin didn’t seem the type to coddle the weak or suffer fools lightly.

“Mahal’s hammer, stop _fighting_ me!” Dwalin slammed his hand against the wall, punctuating his curse.

Ori flinched back, curling into the freezing wall behind him further.

“Master Dwalin, did you find--” a new voice said.

Ori startled before he realized who’d spoken. “Fili?”

“Fili, what’s wrong?” Kili shouted from further away, on the other side of the open door. The sound of boot steps echoed hurriedly before Kili shouted from much closer, “Ori! Are you all right?”

Ori turned towards their voices, trying not to feel Dwalin’s presence in front of him. “I’m fine.”

“What are we waiting for? We need to get out of here,” Fili said urgently.

“He’s blind,” Dwalin snapped. “We’re going to be a dwarf down while we’re getting out of here because someone needs to carry him.”

Ori flushed, embarrassment and anger rising up. “I told you that I can walk,” he said between gritted teeth. “You can leave me in a room somewhere until you clear the way--”

“If you don’t shut up and let someone help you--” Dwalin growled, dangerously close to Ori and sending a chill down his spine.

“You’ll what?”

Ori’s head snapped up, his uninjured eye wide. “Dori?”

“I’m here, Ori. We’ll get you home, safe and sound.” Heavier bootsteps hurried across the floor. Two warm hands cupped his cheeks before yanking away with a hiss. “Your skin’s like ice! Why haven’t any of you bothered to get him out of these wet clothes?”

“We only just found him,” Kili mumbled.

Ori breathed in deeply as Dwalin and Fili’s voices started talking over each other. “Dori--”

“It’s all right, Ori,” Dori murmured. “I’m here now. Let me take care of things.”

Ori nodded, and as he did so, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Tension had been building in his back ever since Dwalin had entered the room, but he didn’t feel it until Dori had given him permission to let go. Now that he was aware of it, he was having trouble keeping his feet as a wave of exhaustion swept over him. “Dori--”

Strong arms that had carried Ori countless times when he was a dwarfling wrapped around him, pulling him away from the freezing wall and enveloping him in steady, comforting warmth. “It’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving your side again. I promise.”

The darkness didn’t change, but he felt himself drifting away into it, the voices getting further and further away as he passed out.

***

When he surfaced, he opened his one good eye to find that he still couldn’t see. Checking a sigh, he closed his eye again and concentrated on breathing.

He was in a bed -- warm, dry, and as comfortable as he could be, given the circumstances. Ori heaved in a breath and immediately recognized where we was. He was in his little room that he’d been given when he began his apprenticeship. There was no mistaking the sheets, or the smell in the air from the books and clothes he’d brought with him months ago.

He felt a bit woozy. He knew he was laying in bed with one of the quilts his mother had made before she died draped over him. He also knew that his body felt disconnected, like the joints were made of knitted yarn that had been stretched out too often. His head felt like it could float away at a moment’s notice, making him itch to reach up his hand and touch his face, just to make sure it was still there.

Voices began to intrude, and Ori had a feeling that was what had woken him up in the first place. At first, they melted together in a babbling brook of vowels and consonants before some syllables leaped out of the brook before landing in the water again.

With a slight grimace, Ori forced himself to concentrate and promptly got dizzy as he imagined the voices he was hearing as words that floated in his mind before melting into ink and splashing every which way. He nearly groaned.

“He held up through more than I’d expected.”

Ori felt his soulmate’s voice almost like a bone-deep hum. For a moment, he thought that Dwalin was standing right next to him, but the hand on his forehead smelled of chamomile tea and scented fabric.

“Aye, he kept arguing with me right up until he finally passed out,” Dwalin said with a snort.

Ori breathed slowly, trying not to let his embarrassment show. Of course Dwalin didn’t think much of him. His soulmate had expected him to cave under pressure because he was too young and stupid to take care of himself. 

“I thought I’d have to fight Dori off, just to carry him out of there.”

Somehow, the mental image of Dwalin carrying him as though he were a ragdoll was even more humiliating than being thought of as a dwarfling who needed protecting. There was a faint voice in the back of Ori’s mind, wondering why it was Dwalin that had carried him out when Dori had had hold of him last, but it drifted away when he thought about Dwalin again.

It didn’t help that Dwalin probably fell unconscious on the battlefield at least once in his career, what with being a warrior. Although, going by how few scars he’d seen before, Ori thought sourly to himself that it was possible that Dwalin was so good at being a warrior that he never got injured in the first place, so of course he wouldn’t need anyone to take care of him.

Fingers ran themselves through his hair with the kind of gentleness that reminded Ori of when he was a dwarfling who couldn’t sleep, and Dori would stroke his hair.

“When’s Oin going to get here?”

The name sounded familiar, but Ori’s head was starting to lazily spin away from him. With a groan, he realized he couldn’t keep faking. He reached up for his head, only for the strong hand to catch his and lay it down on the quilt gently.

“It’s all right, Ori,” Dori murmured. “You’re all right now.”

Ori groaned again, feeling a tension in the air that he was fairly sure was coming from Dwalin. It was bad enough that Dwalin thought he was pathetic. He didn’t need it confirmed by his older brother cosseting him. He weakly turned his head away from Dori, groaning again. “M’fine, Dori.”

“Ah, yes, because you laying in bed in the middle of the day is exactly what you’d be doing right now if it hadn’t been for… unforeseen circumstances.”

“Not so unforeseen,” Ori slurred. He made a show of opening his good eye before groaning again and sinking back onto his pillow. “I can’t see.”

“It’ll be all right,” Dori said quickly. “We’ll have you right as rain in a little bit. Those two friends of yours ran off to find Oin. How are you feeling?”

“Float-y,” Ori said, his eyebrows twitching into a vague frown. “Like all my bones aren’t connected anymore.”

“Oh, good, it sounds like the medicine we gave you is taking effect,” Dori said. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly fine. We thought that with your injuries, you would need a pain-killer for when you woke up.”

“Injuries…?” Ori suddenly remembered the punches to the gut, the one punch to his face, his knee, his foot, the ice water. “What…?”

“We won’t know entirely what’s wrong without Oin examining you, lad,” Balin spoke up from a little further away, causing Ori to jolt weakly in surprise. “Hello, lad. I’m sorry for not making my presence known sooner.”

Ori swiveled his head in a gentle negative. “S’fine. Where’s Fili and Kili? I haven’t heard anything break in the last ten minutes.”

One throat snorted as if Ori had told a joke that wasn’t quite funny enough. “They’re the ones getting Oin for you,” he said. “And here he is!”

“All right, all of you,” Oin barked. “Out, now. I need to be able to concentrate on the patient without tripping over dwarves every time I turn around.”

It sounded like a fading roll of thunder as dwarves left the room. Soon, Ori could hear lowered voices near where he was guessing was the door to his bedroom.

When a large, slightly sweaty hand touched just above his left eye, he jumped a little.

“Hold still,” Oin said, sounding like he was trying to keep his voice down to a dull roar.

Ori winced. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

"That's the first time anyone's accused me of ever being too quiet," Oin said with a chuckle. "Here. Stay still and let me look at your eyes."

Hands braced his head, one on top, the other under his chin, and firmly but gently turned his head to face his right. When the hands had positioned him where they wanted him, thick fingers poked gingerly around his left eyebrow and cheekbone.

"Quite a shiner you've got there. And it looks like your nose got broken into the bargain," Oin said, his voice surprisingly soft. A finger brushed the bone just under his eye, making Ori jerk back in surprise.

Oin didn't seem to need a response. "That should heal up in a few days, though the nose is going to need straightening. It'll make you popular with the ladies, though, so no harm done there."

"I've got a soulmate," Ori grumbled.

"Even better," Oin chuckled. "Now, turn your head this way-- well, no, you can't see where I'm pointing, can you?"

The fingers turned his head with more care than Ori was expecting so that his right eye was closer to where Oin's voice was coming from. More prodding happened around his eye, a bit more firmly than before, and fingers carefully pried his eyelids further apart, making Ori’s eyes water.

"Oh!" Oin said. "I thought it was something serious from the way the lads were carrying on! You'll get your sight back in a day or so. I should box their ears for making me drag out my surgery kit."

Ori forced himself to breathe in slowly and try to calm down. Just because Oin wasn't concerned didn't mean that he liked being blind. "The... dwarf who was asking me questions said that it was some kind of side effect?"

"Aye," Oin said cheerfully. "The drug is supposed to make a full-grown dwarf sluggish and answer true to any question put to them, but sometimes the compulsion to tell the truth will imbalance the humors in the body and render them blind instead. A goodly amount of sleep, some lean meats to counteract the imbalance in your blood, and you'll be fine in a few days."

A sudden thought struck. "What happened to Fili and Kili? They drank as much as I did."

Ori couldn't say he was surprised when Oin started laughing. "They're likely answering to Thorin about all the pranks they've pulled in the last few decades or so.”

While Ori was relieved that their reaction to the drug hadn’t been as severe as his, he found himself annoyed that all they had to worry about was not being able to lie until the drug wore off. Still, it was nice to be able to lie in bed. Of course, his relief vanished all too soon, as Oin was lifting the quilt. “All right, time to take your shirt off.”

“Is that really necessary?” Ori groaned, the lovely cocoon of warmth disrupted by a slight chill in the air that brushed against his skin. He had been changed into warm, dry clothes while he was passed out, and Oin was shifting his shirt aside with surprising gentleness.

“How is your chest feeling?”

“Sore,” Ori said after a moment of thinking about it. It was more like a steady throb instead of a sharp pain, but Dori had said that they’d given him something while he’d been passed out.

The last of the fabric was pulled away, baring his chest. Oin had been about to say something when he stopped.

Fingertips touched his skin, and everywhere they touched, it felt like claws were gouging into his skin.

Ori hissed, sucking in his stomach to try to get away from the source of the pain, only to aggravate the pain further.

Oin’s large, warm hand pressed carefully at certain points. Each time he pressed down, Ori gritted his teeth and whimpered.

After a long moment, Ori’s shirt was carefully closed. From the way the fabric was laid on his chest, Oin was taking a great deal of care not to just let it drop into place.

“Master Oin?” Ori asked tentatively.

“I’ll be right back, lad.”

“But--”

“Never you mind,” Oin said firmly. “I’ll not go far. I need to let Balin know about your injuries.”

“But isn’t Master Balin nearby?” Ori frowned. He’d heard Dwalin’s voice not that long ago, along with his master’s and Dori’s.

“Of course,” Oin said brusquely. A heavy hand landed on Ori’s shoulder, making Ori jump a little in surprise. “Lay back and stay there.”

Frowning, Ori did as he was told while straining his ears. The door opened, and just beyond, he could hear Oin speaking with his master.

“It doesn’t look good,” Oin had a deep frown in his voice.

“What do you mean?” Dori demanded. “He’s just got some bruises, hasn’t he?”

A snort. “If they get any worse, you’ll need to make arrangements for where to bury him.”

Ori felt as though his blood had turned to ice.

There was a deafening silence before Dori said with a numb voice, “What do you mean ‘bury him’? We brought him here. You were supposed to make sure he was all right--”

“Now, I’m not saying that the boy’s going to drop off at any moment--” Oin began.

“Too right you’re not,” Dori snapped. “What was the point of bringing him here if you’re just going to wash your hands of the whole thing?”

“Dori, I realize--” Ori was surprised at how clearly he could hear Balin’s voice.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Dori shouted, his voice climbing into a higher register. That, more than hearing just how bad his injuries were, scared Ori the most. “He was supposed to be _safe_ here! Nothing was supposed to touch him! What _bloody_ use is Thorin Oakenshield if he can’t be bothered to protect someone who isn’t his own kin?!”

There was a dark growl, and then Dwalin’s voice, “How _dare_ you imply--”

“And, _you_ ,” Dori voice suddenly grew softer, raw and angrier. Ori’s heart was pounding in his chest. “You’re his _soulmate_ , for Mahal’s sake! Does the other half of your soul mean so little to you that you would just--”

A heavy fist slammed down on a table hard enough that Ori heard something crack.

“Do you feel better now, brother?” Balin asked mildly. “I’ll thank you to not damage the furniture beyond repair.”

Ori closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to calm down. He didn’t want to know what Dwalin thought right now, especially with his older brother fighting his battles for him. Anything that dealt with this soulmate business was _his_ business, not anything that Dori should stick his nose in.

“Excuse me,” he said, raising his voice so that he could be heard. “I’d _hate_ to interrupt, but I’ve learned it’s rude to talk about someone who can still hear you.” 

Ori took a small amount of satisfaction from the embarrassed silence that followed, along with Oin’s grunted, “Dwarflings, the lot of you.”

As he settled back on his bed and closed his eyes, he heard Oin speak up. “All right, now. You, I’m going to need the nose splints, along with the brandy I keep in my desk.”

“Do I look like your errand boy?” Dwalin growled.

“No, but you’re not doing anything useful here other than keeping my patient awake with your caterwauling. Go fetch what I told you, and be quick about it.”

Ori heard a door open and slam shut.

“You,” Oin said, “go back to your office and work on something, or go update Thorin. Whatever. I don’t care what you do, just get out of here.”

“You’ll keep me informed if something happens?” Balin asked, sounding chastised.

“Aye, sure thing,” Oin said impatiently. “Off with you now. Shoo.”

The door opened and closed again, this time quieter than before. Balin didn’t seem to be angry, though he didn’t sound like he liked being sent away.

“You, go sit with your brother. If those injuries are any indication of what happened to him, he’s going to need a calm, _soothing_ presence nearby. Can you manage that?”

Ori could almost hear Dori’s shoulders square from where he lay. “Of course,” he said tersely. He paused for a moment before adding with audibly gritted teeth, “I’m sorry for my rudeness earlier. You’re doing the best you can to give my brother the best care possible.”

Oin snorted. "I’ve heard a lot worse, trust me. Either way, apology accepted.” He cleared his throat before raising his voice. “And you, Ori, had better get some rest. Tomorrow, we’re going to see about setting your nose and checking to see if there’s anything else wrong with you, and it’s not going to be pleasant.”

Ori’s eyes opened, despite the fact that he couldn’t see anything. With a swallow, he replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Oin said. “You get some rest too. Fili and Kili told me about how you all were searching high and low.”

“I will,” Dori said.

With the sound of the door opening and closing, Ori could hear Dori’s bootsteps enter his room and approach his bed. A chair moved, and then Dori was sitting next to him, reaching out and carefully taking his left hand between both of his.

“Are you all right?” Dori asked softly.

“I still feel like bits of me are going to float away, but I’m all right,” Ori answered honestly. “Though I’m annoyed at you for making my decisions for me.”

“Oh?” Dori sounded a bit annoyed himself.

“You meeting with my master and my soulmate in order to arrange protection for me?” Ori said as pointedly as he could manage. “Seeing as how I’m the one who was being protected, I’d like to think that I could’ve been trusted to know my own mind. Instead, my master piled on the work so that I didn’t have a chance to relax let alone risk leaving these halls, and I had two guards who sold me straight to Kollr’s men.”

“Yes, I’m going to have a little something to say to Mister Dwalin when I get the chance,” Dori muttered. “How could he have possibly risked your safety with two dwarves who obviously couldn’t have been trusted?”

“You’re missing the point,” Ori groaned, sinking back onto his pillow with a sigh, but keeping his hand where it was. Dori’s hand felt warm, and after being in that cold room for so long, he’d rather be too hot than too cold.

“I hardly think so,” Dori said. “Dwalin’s your soulmate, and he didn’t bother protecting you. I’m about to take back everything I said about him, because that was just--”

“Dori.”

“--shabby treatment. You deserve better than having some hulking brute who can’t be bothered to pay attention to his own men and--”

“ _Dori_.”

“... I’m sorry. What is it?”

Ori stopped himself from gritting his teeth. “Whatever relationship that Mister Dwalin and I have or don’t have, is between us. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it. But I really don’t appreciate that you treated me like a child when it was something that affected me.”

“Ori, you don’t understand,” Dori said firmly. “Because of Mister Dwalin’s laxness, you were kidnapped and tortured.”

Ori breathed slowly through his nose, staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes. “Yes, I know. I was there for it, if you’ll recall.”

“Ori--”

“No, now it’s time for you to listen to me,” Ori said. “I was kidnapped and tortured. It was… pretty bad.” He forced down a shudder. “Part of the reason it happened was because I didn’t have all of the facts. I could have protected myself better if I’d been in on the planning from the beginning.”

“Confusing you with so many details wouldn’t have helped matters--”

“You can't keep shutting me in and making all my decisions for me anymore,” Ori snapped. “Look at what _just_ happened."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ori wanted to take them back. After a moment of stunned silence from his brother, he found that no, he didn’t want to take them back after all, because this was something he’d needed to say.

He squeezed Dori’s hand gently. “Dori--” When Dori didn’t interrupt him immediately, he licked his lips and collected his thought. “I’m not of age yet, I know that. But I’m old enough to get myself into trouble because I know that there’s danger, but I wasn’t ready for it. If I’d known to be more suspicious of Nyr and Austri, I could’ve been able to protect myself better. I could’ve done any number of things differently. But it’s happened, and the best I can do right now is concentrate on getting better. And making sure that my soulmate, my master, and my brother don’t kill each other.”

When Dori didn’t answer, Ori sighed and tried to look in his brother’s direction with his undamaged eye. “I don’t even have to be able to see to know that you’re all puffed up like an offended cat.” He squeezed his brother’s hand gently. “Say something? Please?”

Dori’s hands squeezed back just as gently. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“It’s all right,” Ori murmured. “But next time, don’t try to shut me out, okay? Even if it’s scary?”

“I’ll try.” Ori felt a hand let go and fingers brush his hair away from his face before Dori kissed his forehead. “Though I can’t promise I’ll remember to do so.”

“Don’t worry.” Ori smiled. “I’ll make sure to remind you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the chapter! I never know just how much to warn for, especially since characters are getting injured. Me, I would've ended up reading the chapter because I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but I know some readers don't want a bit of torture with their morning cereal and/or coffee.
> 
> It also looks like this fic is nearly finished! It might take a chapter or two, but it should be finished soon! Yay!


	21. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oin had said there might be trouble. I just don't think they were expecting this kind....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's a CHAPTER!
> 
> Jesus, this is the longest it's taken me to write something and post it! I'm so terribly sorry about that! I wish I had a convenient excuse, like some major life event happened that prevented me from writing, but as far as I can tell, it was a massive case of writer's block. With any luck, posting will help with that.
> 
> (Hell, this was supposed to be a quick filler chapter to give me a better idea of how to finish off this silly thing, but noooo.)
> 
> Also! [Elenorasweet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elenorasweet/pseuds/elenorasweet) drew a fanart! Everybody, she drew a fanart of a _novel that doesn't exist_. I mean, holy hell! I knew that the artists in this fandom were amazing, but this is a bit mind-blowing!
> 
> [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1072932) it is! It's amazing, and I love it, and yes. Leave a comment to tell her how amaze-balls Rhis and Nidi are!

When Ori was dragged down into sleep, he could _see_.

It was like nowhere he’d been before. The walls were blue and white sheets of ice, with glints of green and suggestions of purple, glittering and twinkling like half-revealed gems. Like frosted windows on a winter’s night, there was a hint of something else, too, just beyond the sharp, jagged surfaces.

“Good morning,” a low, warm voice said into Ori’s ear. He turned towards the voice, but saw only stark, glittering walls.

Ori exhaled a shaky white cloud of breath that lingered, obscuring his vision. He could see a shadow standing before him, but when the mist faded, it was gone.

A fist slammed into his gut, doubling him over. 

“I said good morning,” the voice murmured from behind him. When he pressed backwards, a wall of ice made him gasp for air.

“We really must improve your manners, mustn’t we?” the voice said with polite regret before more fists slammed into him. He felt the sickening crunch of a large fist connecting with his eye. And then waves of ice-cold water broke over him, again and again, choking and drowning him.

He gasped uselessly as he was stabbed with thousands of needles, over and over, peppering his face, stabbing through his clothes, each pinprick sending ice into his blood.

And then it stopped.

Unable to believe his luck, Ori opened his eyes.

Dwalin stood in front of him, his skin mottled purple and blue and white, his full, black beard turned into jagged icicles. Piercing blue eyes that stared at him coldly, without blinking, were made all the more brilliant by the bruised, mottled skin around them. As Ori watched, he lifted one hand to brace against the wall near Ori’s right shoulder. His other hand -- with such vivid colors and covered in frost -- pushed him against the stone wall, ice jabbing into his back. 

Dwalin _loomed_ , using his height and bulk to crowd Ori, gasping and light-headed, against the wall.

“So,” Dwalin rumbled, the voice a menacing purr that sounded eerily similar to the voice of his faceless captor. His free hand stroked down Ori’s side. Where his fingers pressed against him, searing cold lanced through him, making him want to scream. His side throbbed in agony before one large hand settled on his hip, the thumb stroking slowly. “What’s my reward for saving a pretty, little thing like you?”

Ori woke up.

***

"What _happened?!_ He was awake before! Aware! He can't have just--"

“I said to prepare for the worst.”

“You had better not be telling me--”

“It’s not over! The lad's a fighter. He'll not sleep for long, and rest is really the best thing for him at this point." 

"How do you know?! You don't know!” A deep sob. “I-- I can’t, I _won't_ lose him! He's my little brother..."

"You won't lose him, because he won't let himself be lost."

"Hey, Ori," A softer murmur. Closer. "Everyone's worried about you."

"So, if you can wake up and tell everyone you're okay..." A second voice, just as gentle.

"Well, don't push yourself."

Clumsy pats on his hand.

Ori woke up.

***

"You're mine," Dwalin purred.

A finger under his chin forced him to look up into cold, blue eyes, and purple-blue skin covered in ice.

"And that means I get to do whatever I wish with you."

A hand, crackling with frost, covered Ori’s left eye. Ori gasped, unable to breathe.

"I would've _taken_ you, if I wanted you."

Dwalin's lips curled back, revealing a mouth filled with jagged, broken teeth.

"But for now..."

He leaned in, covering his mouth over Ori's, and breathed into him.

Boiling heat raced down his throat, entered his lungs, and set him on fire from the inside out. Ori would’ve screamed, if he could have made any noise at all.

Instead, Ori woke up.

***

The flame that pulsed against his skin felt like it was breathing pain into him.

It scorched as it prodded, burned as it soothed, seared when it touched, _hurt_ when it stroked.

Ori wanted to scream each time the fire touched him, but it was worse when the fire disappeared. The agonizing cold froze him from the inside out, leaving him drowning on dry land, raising goosebumps as it traveled across his skin.

A stray thought wandered across Ori's mind, through the haze of pain and darkness. Was it better to die from dragonfire or abandoned on a frozen waste?

He couldn’t help silently snorting at himself. What was the point of asking? He was already lost on the frozen wastes. It felt like he was never going to escape them.

If he was going to die, he'd rather burn.

Ori woke up.

***

Each time the fire returned, it burned and soothed.

Embers touched his cheek as if scared to do more than brush his skin.

Flames grabbed his nose and snapped it into place, not hearing his shrieks, ignoring his struggles. More fire pinned him down, and then words erupted from his mouth. He screamed and screamed that he didn't know. What he didn't know, he couldn't even say, but he couldn’t stop sobbing, the words tumbling out of him.

The fire extinguished in a moment, leaving him shivering and icy. "Burn me!" he remembered screaming, sobbing hard enough to hurt. "Mahal! _Burn me._ "

The darkness wavered, and then the flames lashed out, enveloping his skin.

The flames scorched through him, ripping through his body; it was too much for him to handle.

Ori woke up.

***

The freezing mist came, and the shadowy figure moved forward before disappearing altogether.

The walls, still frozen in dangerous, glittering colors, had something dark and formless trapped in them, just under the surface. Ori wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.

He closed his eyes, and opened them again when he felt heavy, ice-covered boots step closer to him. He was too exhausted to be scared, too riddled with pain to do more than just blink as Dwalin stood in front of him again.

Blue-white fingers brushed his bangs aside. Ori’s hair, now made of icicles, tinkled like little bells.

"What am I supposed to say to you?" Dwalin breathed, the white puffs of breath brushing against Ori's cheeks, freezing and wet in turns. "What do you want me to do? Mahal’s beard, you can't even hear me."

Dwalin stared at him, his blue eyes glittering, the paleness standing out vividly against his frozen skin. He looked like he had something dark and formless trapped under his skin.

He leaned in closer, his lips at Ori’s temple.

“I should be doing something,” he whispered, his voice like snapping ice. “Not holding your hand. This is pointless.”

Purpled fingers brushed away icicles of hair from his face gently enough that he only noticed their absence.

“You don’t deserve me.”

The air froze around him, leaving him unable to scream. It felt as though a hand had reached inside of him, and crushed him.

Ori fell asleep.

***

Ori wasn’t sure what to think when he found himself lying in bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin. After all the ice that he’d seen, and the fire he’d felt, seeing his room was... anticlimactic.

He was propped up in bed, his pillows fluffed up behind him so that his upper half was gently reclined. He could easily lay his head back and go back to sleep, if he wanted to.

He’d had enough of sleeping.

Looking around, he wasn’t surprised to find Dori dozing in a chair at his left side, his arms folded around him as though he were cold, despite the fact that he was wearing one of his warmer robes.

Ori almost didn’t want to wake him -- his eldest brother looked like he needed the rest, especially if he’d been the one yelling at Master Oin like he’d heard in his… was it a dream? Had he been asleep all this time? He yawned and stretched, sighing gratefully when the joints in his back and shoulders popped.

Still, Dori would never forgive him if he _didn’t_ wake his brother, so he cleared his throat and said, “Dori?”

Hazel eyes shot open. In moments, Dori was on his feet, staring at Ori as if he’d seen a ghost. “Ori? Are you awake?”

Ori smiled a bit weakly. “Morning.”

“Oh, my goodness--” Dori managed before sweeping his brother up into a strong, warm hug. “Ori, I was so scared,” he murmured, unconsciously rocking from side to side. Gentle fingers carded through his hair like they had when Ori was little.

Ori closed his eyes and just let himself soak in the steady warmth, trying to feel it seep into his blood, and imagining it running from his head all the way down to his toes. After a long while, he sighed and gently pushed Dori away.

Dori let go, but only reluctantly. “How are you feeling? Do you want some tea? Biscuits?”

One of Ori’s hands went to his stomach, which felt a bit queasy, and he shook his head. “I’m all right. What’s going on? Where is everyone?”

Dori snorted. “Everyone’s asleep -- or they should be. It’s the middle of the night.”

 _Well,_ Ori thought to himself, _at least I know why it feels so quiet._ “Oh.”

Dori shook his head. “It’s all right. You’ve had a rough time of it. Maybe you should get some more rest…?”

Ori shook his head in return. “I’m really sick of sleeping,” he admitted. “And I’m not all that tired.”

“That’s all right, then,” Dori murmured. He took a moment to sit down at Ori’s side, turning a little so that they could face each other comfortably. “You gave us a scare or two when you were asleep.”

Ori looked away, biting his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to.”

Dori’s firm grip on his shoulder made him look up. “We know you didn’t. It was just… just touch-and-go there for a bit.” He smiled and bracingly added, “But! You’re all better now, and you’re awake, and you don’t need to go back to sleep if you don’t want to.”

Ori couldn’t help smiling, even if in the back of his mind, he was surprised that Dori wasn’t ordering him back to sleep this instant. “Thank you.” He watched Dori’s face for a long moment before he added, “What about you? You look tired.”

Dori shook his head. “I’m fine. I just got a bit distracted, is all.”

Ori frowned. “What about?”

Dori returned the frown with interest. “Never you mind. You’ve just been through an ordeal--”

“And it’s not over,” Ori said firmly.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not over’?” Dori snapped defensively. “Of course, it’s over.”

“Dori,” Ori dragged out the second syllable, much like Dori himself would when a much-younger Ori would get in trouble. “We just had a conversation about this.” He frowned, trying to look stern. “Don’t shut me out of this.”

“Ori, you don’t understand what’s happening--”

“I will if you just explain it,” Ori pointed out. “It’s the middle of the night, so we’re not going to get interrupted. Come on, then.”

Dori growled. “It’s not that simple.”

“Do you want to know what’s simple?” Ori asked. “Simple is that I know it’s not over. When that-- when he had me, I couldn’t give him the answers he wanted. Which means that Kollr doesn’t have what he wants, so he’s going to keep coming after us until he gets it.”

For a moment, it looked as though Dori’s eyes had darkened a few shades as his mouth turned downwards. “Ori…”

“If Kollr is going to keep coming after us, so is Solvi,” Ori added quickly, not wanting to be interrupted further. “And that means we’re still not safe here in Ered Luin. Mister Dwalin can try to post more guards around me, but we’re going to have those guards hanging around us until either Kollr and Solvi are swinging in a cell at the top of the tallest mountain in Ered Luin, or we’re dead.”

Dori’s expression darkened. “Considering what a mess Mister Dwalin made of keeping you safe, I’m not about to give him the chance to fail again.”

It took a great deal of effort for Ori not to roll his eyes. “Dori, he’s protected me before. You were there, if I remember correctly.”

Dori was supremely unimpressed. “He’s good in a fight, to be sure, but you were captured and _tortured_. I almost--” He stopped himself with a great deal of effort, breathed in deeply and slowly, and then spoke in careful, measured tones. “I told you not to trust him before.”

“Well, you certainly seemed ready enough to trust him when he showed up at our door, and protected us from the city watch,” Ori said sourly.

“I was willing to give him a chance if he could get you out of there alive,” Dori said, his voice rising. “And now you’re lying in that bed, and you nearly _died_. If his idea of protecting us is for you to be _brutalized_ , we’re better off without him.”

“You were the one who thought he was so amazing when you saw my first soulcraft.” Ori snapped back, feeling annoyed.

“And a _fine_ soulmate he’s turning out to be,” Dori said with a sneer. “He’s not going to get the chance to be anywhere near you again. I won’t let him.”

Ori sighed heavily. “And what happens to you, then?” he asked, feeling a bone-deep weariness. “They didn’t learn anything from me because I had nothing to give them. How long will it be before they try to go after you again?”

When Dori opened his mouth, Ori shook his head. “Don’t shut me out, remember? And that includes lying about our odds.”

“I don’t know, Ori.” Dori sighed heavily, broad shoulders visibly slumping. “Is that what you want to hear from me? I don’t know.”

Ori reached out with his left hand, covering Dori’s left. “It might not be the most comforting thing, but I’d rather hear that than be lied to.”

Dori looked down at their hands and then patted the top of Ori’s hand gently. “You two are going to be the death of me one day. I just know it.”

Ori tried to smile, but he could see how unsuccessful it was by the look in Dori’s eyes.

“Try to get some sleep, won’t you?” Ori asked. “You really do look like you need it.”

Dori snorted, leaning down to kiss Ori’s forehead. “Only if you stay put. Do you need a book to read so that you don’t get bored?”

Ori nodded. “Sure. Any of the ones from my bookcase should be fine.”

Dori got up and picked a slender volume from the top row of Ori’s small bookcase across the room. Setting it down next to Ori’s right hand, he patted Ori’s hair once before returning to his chair, curling up, and falling asleep.

***

Ori had never realized just how incredibly boring the walls of his room looked. He knew that his bedroom wasn’t supposed to be interesting -- it was just a room for him to sleep in, and a place to keep his things not related to his apprenticeship. But when he didn’t want to sleep, and he couldn’t get out of bed, he found there was very little to _look_ at.

Before he could try to figure out what exact shade of grey his wall was, the door carefully opened, and Balin stepped through.

For a moment, he slipped in as quietly as a dwarf his age could manage, but when he saw Ori, he did a double-take, his eyes lighting up and his face cracking into a broad grin.

Ori held a finger to his lips quickly when he thought that his master might say something. At Balin’s inquiring look, Ori shrugged self-consciously. “I like the quiet. It feels… peaceful.”

Balin thought that over for a moment, and then he made his way carefully over to the large, overstuffed chair that looked like it had been carried in from his office. It was positioned close enough to the bed that Balin could be sitting next to him without Ori feeling crowded.

“Ori, my lad,” Balin whispered happily, reaching forward and carefully reaching out to take Ori’s left hand in both of his. From his vantage point, he gave Ori a searching look that made Ori think that his master could see right under his skin. “How are you? I’m glad to see you awake.”

“I’m all right.” Ori smiled back. “I’m glad to be awake too.”

Balin nodded approvingly. “Good, good. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You had a rough time of it when you were asleep.”

Ori nodded. “It was all very strange, but I’m awake now. Is everyone all right?” He glanced around, but didn’t see anyone else in the room. “Were Fili and Kili here while I was asleep? Are they all right?” A moment later, he added, “And Dori? Is he all right too?”

Balin nodded patiently. “Aye, they’re all fine. Dori’s off somewhere, sleeping if he’s being sensible. As for the boys, Thorin finally had to drag them back to their rooms with some help from Dwalin. They didn’t want to leave your side.”

Ori exhaled slowly. “That’s good,” he murmured. A moment later, when he realized what he’d said, he looked up at Balin quickly. “Not good that they were worried, but--”

Balin shook his head. “I understand, lad. No need to belabor the point.” He gave Ori a thoughtful frown. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest yourself, though? After what happened…”

“No,” Ori said quickly. “I mean-- I only woke up a little while ago, but I don’t want to sleep again.” His gaze strayed, but after a moment of looking around the room, he found himself unsure as to what he was looking for. He knew he was repeating himself, but he wasn’t sure how he knew. “I… Master? Could you… stay here? Please?”

Balin’s eyebrows rose in silent surprise.

Ori held up the book that lay beside him. “I don’t really feel like reading either.”

Balin nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. “All right, lad. Was there anything that you wanted to talk about?”

That one question felt like it was the hammer that broke open the floodgates. Ori didn’t start crying, thank Mahal, but there were so many questions on his tongue that he had some difficulty trying to stick to one of them to ask.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he asked quickly before adding, “With me and Dori, I mean?” At Balin’s frown, Ori sighed. “My interrogator didn’t get what he wanted out of me. They’re going to try again.”

Balin’s expression fell as though he’d just heard that his only son had been killed on the field of battle. It didn’t make sense, of course, because Balin had never sired children, but there was something about the look in his eyes.... Watching the older dwarf collect his thoughts, Ori felt as though he shouldn’t have asked.

“They will, no doubt,” Balin said heavily, shifting his weight before reaching forward and carefully brushing Ori’s hair from his forehead in a way that felt strangely familiar. “I swore to you that protecting you and your family was important to me.”

There was a small voice in the back of Ori’s mind that said no, that hadn’t been what Balin had said at all, but he focused his attention on his master.

“If Kollr and Solvi hound you until the end of your days, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and your brothers safe from them,” Balin murmured.

“And my apprenticeship?” The words were out of Ori’s mouth before he realized he’d said them.

Balin frowned at him. “What about your apprenticeship?”

Ori blinked at him. “Wouldn’t-- I mean… You and Master Thorin would have to go to a lot of trouble to keep me and Dori safe. Wouldn’t it be too much to ask for you to teach me as well? We never talked about this sort of thing happened when you agreed to take me on.”

Balin stared at him for a long moment before he shook his head and chuckled gently. “Trust me, Ori, there have been more difficult apprenticeships than yours over the years. Protecting Dori isn’t going to take all that much effort, especially if he decides to move out of his home to live with us here in Thorin’s halls.”

“So… you’ll still teach me?” Ori hated how small his voice sounded, but he couldn’t help himself. “Even if Kollr and Solvi are after me?”

Balin reached over to pull him into a warm, gentle hug. “Even so, lad. The fact that you even had to ask is a bit worrisome, though.”

Ori sighed. “It just didn’t seem fair, Master. You’ve been teaching me for months, and now I’m in trouble and it just means more work for you. It’s bad enough that I ended up being your brother’s--” He stopped a few words too late, and when the silence turned awkward, Ori felt himself blushing. He hoped that Balin would leave the rest of the thought unsaid, but unfortunately not.

“Soulmate?” Balin finished gently. “What you have with my brother is between you and him.”

Ori pulled away from the embrace carefully, looking up at Balin when curiosity took over. “Why?”

Balin blinked. “Why?”

Ori nodded. “Why aren’t you more interested in what happens between us? Dori said that finding your soulmate was rare. Wouldn’t you want your brother to be happy?”

Balin sighed. “Dwalin is his own dwarf, and just because he’s my brother doesn’t mean that I necessarily agree with the way he’s acting, especially towards you. I’d like to see him happy, but not at your expense. You’re my student, and your happiness matters to me too. Just as much, in fact.”

Ori wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was sure it showed on his face, because Balin smiled.

“I was telling the truth when I said that I’m proud to be your teacher, Ori. I may not say it very often, but you need to know that. No matter what happens between you and my brother -- whether you’re together or apart, happy or sad -- nothing will change how much I care about you.”

Ori released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. With a shaky smile, he nodded. It was when he was shifting around in bed when he thought of something else to ask. “How long do I have to stay in bed?”

Balin chuckled gently. “That’s a question for Master Oin, I’m afraid. I’m not sure how recovered you are, but that you woke up is a good sign. We were worried about you.”

Ori ducked his head. “Sorry, Master.”

Balin tapped under his chin with a finger, enough to encourage him to meet his gaze. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t ask for those injuries. Now that you’re awake, you can start getting better, and you can get back to work.”

Despite everything that had happened, Ori couldn’t help a small smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Balin smiled faintly. “You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome nonetheless.”

***

Minutes stretched into hours. Ori had tried to read the book beside him, but one glance at the pages, and the Cirth had started to swirl in front of his eyes as though it were alive. He didn’t want to go to sleep, since he was worried it would just plunge him back into a world where everything was made of fire and ice and it hurt all the time.

Ori had been debating whether or not he should try to get out of bed when he heard a footstep, just outside his bedroom.

For a long moment, he was fairly sure he’d imagined it, but when he heard the tread of someone moving away from the door, he found himself calling out, “Hello?”

Whoever it was outside his door stopped.

“Hello?” Ori tried again. When he still didn’t receive a response, he rolled his eyes. “I already know you’re out there. If you’re worried about waking me, you don't need to be.”

The silence felt as though a decision were being made before the door opened, and blue eyes met Ori’s.

Ori blinked.

As he watched, Dwalin stepped into the room, easing the door behind him and then stopping just inside of the room.

“You’re--” Ori’s voice failed him for a moment as ice-blue eyes turned on him. “You’re here. I mean, actually here.”

Dwalin snorted, folding his arms over his chest. Tattoos accentuated the well-defined muscles in the large dwarf’s arms, with dark body hair somehow not obscuring the designs at all that Ori could see.

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them before Ori realized what was happening.

“You’re not going to speak to me, are you,” he declared flatly, his heart sinking in his chest. For a moment, he could feel himself starting to feel the weight of despair pressing on his shoulders, but then, like he always did when he interacted with Dwalin, he got mad. “If you’re going to bother coming here, you should bring your helmet with you.”

Dwalin frowned at him, faint surprise shining through the glare.

Ori snorted. “Weren’t expecting that, were you? You only ever say anything to me when I can’t see your face clearly, so if you can’t be bothered to say anything now, go get your helmet. Don’t worry. I’m still on bed rest, so I can’t actually get up, even if I wanted to. I can wait.” To punctuate the remark, he folded his arms across his chest gingerly and stared back at Dwalin. He knew he looked childish at the moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His soulmate had voluntarily sought him out, only to stare awkwardly at him as if Ori could read his mind purely through facial expression and body language alone.

Blue eyes narrowed at him before Dwalin shifted just enough to lean against the door frame, his arms still folded across his chest. Somehow, it was as though he were belligerently swaggering as he did it, though how Ori was able to read that from the way Dwalin was standing, he wasn’t sure.

“You don’t want to say anything to me?” Ori asked, his voice hard. “All right, fine. You can nod or shake your head, but I’m going to be asking you questions.”

Dwalin didn’t roll his eyes, but it felt like a very near thing. He did, however, let out a soft snort.

Ori gave him what he hoped was an ugly smirk. “You let me be protected by two dwarves who delivered me to Kollr Longshanks.”

Whatever expression had been tugging at Dwalin’s lips dropped in a moment, replaced by a frown.

“Congratulations on that, by the way,” Ori said sharply. “Was I too much of a bother for you to guard personally? Was I too much of an embarrassment for you, because I’m not the kind of soulmate you want me to be?”

A sudden dark thought twisted something in his stomach. “Or did you do it deliberately, to get me out of the way? Were you hoping I’d die and reincarnate into someone you could actually respect?”

Dwalin’s expression turned from a surprised sort of blankness into a slow-boiling anger. He started to open his mouth, his lips pulled back in something close to a snarl, but Ori was too fed up to bother listening now, not when Dwalin hadn’t felt the need to speak during this whole conversation.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ori snapped. “You didn’t want to say anything before, so now you don’t get to. It’s my turn, and since I’m through with feeling like a fool each time I try to be polite to you, I’m going to speak my mind, once and for all.” He took a deep breath, and felt something inside his chest harden into something strong, like well-tempered steel.

“I may not be what you wanted, Dwalin Fundinul, but I at least tried to speak to you politely,” he began. It wasn’t the best opening statement he could’ve used, but he hadn’t thought of any sort of plan when he’d started talking. As much as he’d wanted to tell Dwalin off, it wasn’t something that he’d expected he would ever actually _do_. He felt a rush of exhilaration at letting it all out, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure that he was crossing a point of no return.

“I don’t care what happens to you anymore,” Ori said firmly. “You can burn in a funeral pyre, for all I care. You as good as sold me to Kollr Longshanks -- a dwarf who’s been after Nori for ages, which you _knew_ about, by the way -- and I want nothing more to do with you. I don’t need you to be happy. And if you think that I’m just something to--” He flailed around for a moment, trying to think of something appropriate. “To scrape off the bottom of your shoe, you can go glare at someone else, because I’m finished.”

Dwalin glared at him.

Ori scowled back, really wanting to give Dwalin a glare that could make him wet his pants. “I _said_ ,” he snapped, “I’m _finished_. You may go.”

Dwalin glared at him for another moment, but just as Ori was about to start yelling at him, he unfolded his arms, straightened up where he stood, and left. The door closing behind him was not the frame-rattling slam Ori had been expecting, but a soft click. It sounded surprisingly final.

Ori had to force himself to breathe. It hadn’t gone like he’d been expecting, but… it had felt amazing. He’d finally given Dwalin a piece of his mind. He hadn’t lost his temper, or started yelling or crying, or done anything embarrassing at all. He’d stated why he wasn’t happy, had told Dwalin off, and it had all been so easy. It had even been easier for all of the resentment to bleed out of him than the time, a decade ago, when he’d been so ill that a healer had had to bleed the sickness out of him.

Feeling as though a great weight had been taken off his shoulders, Ori set his book on his bedside table, readjusted himself on his pillows, and sighed.

***

Ori was bored enough that he almost wanted to go back to sleep. There were times when he thought that the shadows were moving across the room, but when he turned his attention to them, they snapped back into place like soldiers who’d been caught out of formation by their captain.

He was starting to wonder what daylight looked like.

Instead, when he turned his head to the side, a pair of familiar hazel eyes were staring back at him.

Ori blinked, his mind a blank before he blurted out, "Nori!"

Nori grinned at him, sprawling into the armchair next to Ori's bed, one leg hooked over the arm, his back wedged against the opposite corner of the chair, and his fingers plucking a copper coin from his pocket. “In the flesh.”

“How did you get back into Ered Luin?” Ori couldn’t help asking, the words following on the heels of a rush of relief that was nearly overpowering. “I thought you had to leave because--”

Ori shifted in bed, and when he felt a pain in his gut, all of what had happened to him returned in a rush. “No.”

Nori, who’d been watching him steadily, looking lazy in a strangely controlled way, raised his braided eyebrows in a question. “No?”

Ori winced, shifting gingerly until the pain stopped. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “No.”

Nori watched him steadily, but silently. Ori found himself wondering if his brother was always like this, and he just hadn’t noticed before.

“I don’t care how you got back into town,” Ori said firmly. “I want answers.”

“Careful, there,” Nori said, his tone light, but with just a hint of warning to it. “You’re starting to sound like Dori.”

Ori scowled. “I just got tortured because of you. Did you know that?”

“Oh?” A braided eyebrow rose. “Who done it?”

“If you’re asking for a specific dwarf’s name, I don’t know it,” Ori said sourly. “If you’re asking for the dwarf who _hired_ that dwarf to torture me for information that _you_ have, why should I tell you?”

Ori could see the moment when Nori’s body tensed. Nori looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Funny. I would think that you’d want to get back at whoever did this to you.”

“And have them come after me again because you’re just going to disappear again, like you always do?” Ori snapped, anger lashing around inside of him like flames about to go out of control. “Why couldn’t _you_ have been the one to be tortured?”

Nori turned to face him, his expression unreadable.

The fire inside Ori’s stomach extinguished, leaving a horrible pit behind, even as his cheeks burned. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

Nori snorted, looking down at his fingers. The copper coin disappeared, and a knife appeared as if by magic, the blade tip picking delicately underneath uneven fingernails. “I’ve heard worse, trust me.”

“Nori--” Ori tried again, but hazel eyes flicking up to meet his gaze stopped him.

“That’s not what you want to talk about.”

Ori blinked, confused out of his shame by the strange statement. “What do you mean…?”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away from those hazel eyes, staring back into him. Hazel eyes… like Dori’s.

Dori, who’d been sitting in the armchair. No, not sitting… curled up in it, like he never would be. And Dori would never have left his side, no matter how much his neck would start hurting.

But then Balin had sat in the armchair, and it looked like it was his, instead of the one that was usually in his room. But how could he have done that if Dori was sleeping there already?

“You’re… not really here,” Ori said slowly. “Are you.”

Nori smiled wryly, and shook his head.

“I’m still asleep?” Ori couldn’t help whining a little. After all that time dreaming of fire and ice and pain, always pain, he’d been hoping he’d woken up. 

“Ori,” Nori said, his voice taking on a firmness that Ori wasn’t used to hearing from his wayward brother. “That’s not the question you want answered now.”

“What’s the point of even asking it now?” Ori asked mulishly. “You’re not real if I’m still asleep.”

“Don’t you still want to hear the answers from me?” he asked, one of his eyebrows raised.

A frustrated growl escaped him. “You’re not really here. You’re not really you.” He couldn’t help gesturing with his arms pointedly. “You’re just something my mind made up for me to talk to, aren’t you?” A sudden thought struck him. “Unless…?”

Nori snorted. “You read those books about soulmates. Not one of them talked about sharing dreams. And do you really think that Dwalin would talk to you like this?”

Ori deflated with a sigh. “It would be better than what he’s been doing,” he muttered.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Nori said, righting himself in the armchair and sitting in it properly. “You would just get mad about him hiding behind another face just to have a conversation with you.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“What am I supposed to do about him?” Ori turned away to stare forward, sighing heavily and settling himself more comfortably on his pillows.

“You already said it yourself earlier,” Nori pointed out. “Forget about him. You saw all those stories about what happens when it goes all wrong. You can be happy without him.”

“Nori trusted him,” Ori muttered. “Why couldn’t Nori have told us he trusted him?”

Nori shrugged. “Maybe they’ve got a funny relationship, and it’s hard to explain it to people.” He smirked. “Not like you don’t have a few of those yourself.”

Ori remembered all of the times when he had defended Dwalin to Dori with embarrassing clarity. It hadn’t helped that most of the time he was trying to get Dori to stop, he had a lot of trouble liking Dwalin himself. “It’s harder than it looks,” he mumbled.

“Sure it is.” Nori shrugged again.

Ori turned to look at him, taking in the ridiculous, auburn hair, the multiple braids in his beard and his eyebrows. He couldn’t help sighing heavily. “I miss you. Him.” He winced.

“‘Course you do,” Nori said. Ori could hear the shrug in his voice. “Why else would you dream about talking to him?”

Ori snorted weakly. Even his own mind wasn’t giving him much reassurance about how Nori would react to affection. He hadn’t been around all that often for Ori to see it, even when Nori was still in Ered Luin. Trying not to think of the pangs in his chest over the realization, he stared up at the ceiling. “Do _you_ have any ideas about what to do about Kollr and Solvi?”

“Not really,” Nori said blithely. “Except keep your head down and hide. You’re a likeable dwarf, and there are dwarves who worry about you and want to take care of you.”

Ori could see Dori and Balin in his mind’s eye almost immediately.

“And you’ve also got friends who’ll stick by you.”

Fili and Kili.

“They’ll stand between you and the executioner’s axe any day of the week.”

Ori frowned. “What if I don’t want them to?”

Nori snorted. “They’re dwarves, Ori. They’re not going to listen to what you say, because they want to make sure you’re safe.”

“But I want to keep _them_ safe,” Ori pointed out, half-heartedly glaring at his older brother out of the corner of his eye. “How’m I supposed to do that, then?”

“Keep yourself safe and don’t go fighting any dragons,” Nori smirked. “And if you want to, make sure to drag them along for it.”

Ori turned his head to rest it on the pillow, looking at his brother steadily again. “Why couldn’t you have told us what was happening to you?” he asked after a long silence.

The air of laughing at someone else’s expense faded from Nori’s expression. “There’s some things a dwarf’s gotta do for themselves, is all. You know about that.”

Dwalin.

“I’m going to have to say all of that to him all over again, aren’t I?” Ori asked drily.

Nori grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll remember it all. Promise.”

“Just like you promised that one time that oil was actually honey?” Ori asked, unable to stop a slightly annoyed half-smile.

Nori’s laugh was more like a breathy cough. “Seeing your face when you ate it was worth you being mad at me for three weeks.” When Ori opened his mouth to say something else, Nori shook his head. “Ah ah ah. Time for you to go back to sleep. You’re still not healed.”

As Nori said the words, Ori could feel the aches and pains in his gut, his chest, his knee, his wrists, his face.

“But--”

“No buts,” Nori said gently. “Now, pretend you still like me enough to do what I say, eh?”

Ori frowned. “I still love you.”

Nori’s smile told Ori just how much his brother didn’t believe him. “I love you too, little brother. Heal up, and maybe you’ll see me sooner than you think.”

He remembered sighing, and closing his eyes.

***

Ori woke up to darkness.

For a moment, he wondered if he’d woken up from the nightmare, but he felt eerily calm. It was only when he blinked his eyes, and still couldn’t see anything that his heart started hammering in his chest.

Still clumsy from sleep -- he wasn’t sure if he’d had enough or had too much -- he managed to claw his way up to a sitting position, his breath coming in useless gasps.

There was a sound of a door opening, and then a familiar voice yelped, “Ori!”

Ori’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and sightless. “Dori?”

There were a flurry of thumping footsteps, and then Ori was pulled into a firm embrace. He gasped when his nose came into contact with… something, but Dori kept him in place with two strong arms and a murmured, “Thank Mahal you’re awake.” A strong hand rested on his back and stroked gently, up and down, making Ori think of when he was little and he’d had a bad dream.

“Dori,” Ori managed, a bit more breathlessly than he’d wanted.

“Shh,” Dori said gently. “It’s all right. You’re awake now.”

“Dori,” Ori said more firmly. Panic started creeping into his voice.

“Everything’s all right now,” Dori murmured, his hand still stroking his back. The other wrapped around his shoulders carefully.

“No, it’s not,” Ori said, his heart back to hammering like a team of smiths in a forge. “I still can’t see.”


	22. A Matter of Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori's awake now, but everything's become a matter of footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all of the warmest thank-yous to Elsajeni, Penniform, and ForAllLove for their beta-reading assistance and infinite patience while I waffle around and generally bump into things while I write this. As always, I hope to be finished soon, but as ever, my best-laid plans always end up laughing at me. ^^;

“Everything’s all right now,” Dori murmured, his hand still stroking Ori’s back. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders carefully.

“No, it’s not,” Ori said, his heart back to hammering like a team of smiths in a forge. “I still can’t see.”

Dori’s body tensed under Ori’s arms. “You what?” he asked, his voice soft and just shy of strangled.

“I still can’t see,” Ori said firmly, trying to look in Dori’s direction and fairly sure he only half-managed it. “Everything’s black.”

He heard Dori breathe in slowly, and then Dori’s hands were on his shoulders. “Well, Master Oin did say that you weren’t entirely recovered.”

“What happened?” Ori asked. “I thought I was going to be fine…?”

“Yes, well,” Dori said, sounding irritated. “As Master Oin and Master Balin are both _fond_ of reminding me, there was a possibility that you might need longer to recover than is normal.” Dori’s tone was starting to harden in a way that Ori recognized from years of arguments when Dori was trying to sound like he wasn’t concerned at all about Nori, all the while making tea aggressively and forcing Nori to eat a biscuit or twelve. “But you’re clearly getting better now, and your eyes shouldn’t be too far behind. Master Oin was able to take the opportunity to set your nose, after all.”

The memory of fire scorching through his body popped into Ori’s mind immediately, jarring him out of his reflexive cringe away from Dori’s palpable mothering. “That explains why it hurt so much,” he muttered.

“Are you all right?” Dori asked quickly, his voice worried.

Ori scowled as best he could, given the circumstances. He ended up wincing when he wrinkled his nose by mistake.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dori growled. “And don’t wrinkle your nose -- it’ll heal crooked. And not in the handsome way. You’re obviously not as well as you could be, but are you in pain? Is there anything I can do?”

Ori started to speak, but when he thought about it for a moment, he stopped. His nose was starting to hurt, and he could feel his wrists aching under what felt like bandages wrapped around them. The knee that the faceless dwarf had kicked was hurting a little, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been before he went to sleep. Whatever painkillers Master Oin had given him seemed to be keeping the worst of the pain at bay.

His chest was another matter entirely, though. It felt like each place he’d been punched and drenched with icy water was iron being pounded by a team of smiths. He was one persistent ache from his collarbone to his hips, and even staying perfectly still, he couldn’t keep the ache from flaring up. Bracing himself with a deep breath, Ori moved as gingerly as he could when he settled back on his pillows.

“I saw that wince, Ori,” Dori growled. “What’s hurting?”

As much as he didn’t want to send Dori into hysterics, Ori mentally gave up the fight. If nothing else, he might get a bit of privacy if Dori took it upon himself to fetch Master Oin and a pot of tea. “It’s my chest.” He wished he didn’t sound so pathetic, but when he was reminded of the pain, it came back with a vengeance.

“Right.” Ori felt the bed shift as Dori stood up, and he heard his older brother clap his hands together and Ori could picture it in his mind. It was the signal that Dori was about to do something so efficiently, whatever it was wouldn’t know what hit it. “I’ll be back with Master Oin and a pot of tea.”

Ori couldn’t stop a small smile. Even if everything else was going wrong, being able to guess what Dori would do in any given situation was deeply reassuring. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Could you bring a book with you? I miss being able to read.”

He almost felt bad for adding that last part, especially since he had books enough in his room that Dori could choose from. Still, if it meant that he’d have more time to himself, Ori would take it.

“Of course,” Dori said warmly. Ori felt Dori press a kiss against his hair. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he heard Dori walk away, open the door, and leave, Ori hoped his brother wouldn’t be quite so quick to return. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to have some time to himself.

Of course, ten minutes later, that's when everything erupted into pandemonium.

After the initial shock of too many voices that were much too loud for a dwarf who had just woken up less than an hour ago, Ori was able to piece together that in waking up Oin, Dori had made enough of a commotion to not only wake up Balin, but the rest of Ered Luin, judging by the sound of it.

There were some good-natured (if completely unappreciated) backslapping from dwarves Ori could only guess were Fili and Kili, a thunderous avalanche of well-wishes, and Master Oin prodding and poking at him until he felt like his chest had been pried open, and his nose wrenched in three different directions. Ori was about to resign himself to being well-wished within an inch of his life until Oin declared Ori to be out of the woods and back onto the road to recovery, and then loudly added that he would continue to improve if everyone _cleared out_ and came back in the morning, _one at a time_.

As Ori lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes, he wondered if Oin had some copying work he wanted done. With how much better he was feeling after the mob, he thought to himself that maybe, just _maybe_ , if Oin _really_ wanted it, he’d copy the most melodramatic romance that Oin might want to have.

***

“We should give him another hour,” Fili said firmly.

Ori popped an eye open. When he didn’t see any difference, he closed his eye and snuggled back into his sheets.

“This floor is really hard on my back,” Kili whined. “Besides, it’s not good for young dwarves to be in bed all day. Mum said so.”

“She said that when you were in your twenties, and you didn’t want to go to your lessons,” Fili said with the infinite patience of an older sibling. “And it’s not like Ori _wants_ to be in bed.”

There was some muffled mumbling before Ori heard the squeak of a door easing open.

“He has to wake up _sometime_ ,” Kili insisted, his voice more distinct than a moment ago. “It’s just a quick peek, and-- Ori!”

There was the sound of a light smack, and a muttered “ow!” before footsteps approached the bed.

“See, he’s awake!” Kili said defensively.

“And how do I know you didn’t wake him up with how loud you were just now?” Fili asked firmly.

Ori rolled his eyes, earning himself a small headache that he told himself was worth it. “I can still hear you two, you know. I’m blind, not deaf.”

“You’re _blind_?” Kili demanded. There were more footsteps, and the only warning that Ori received that someone had joined him was that the world tilted as a heavy weight landed on the bed near his left side. The next time Kili spoke, he was almost nose-to-nose with him. “Oin didn’t say anything about that last night! Besides, I don’t see anything wrong with your eyes.”

Ori startled at the sudden change in volume, which set off a chain-reaction of pain, starting with his chest when he gasped, and ending with his nose when he moved too sharply away from Kili’s sudden presence. He couldn’t stop himself from a small wince.

“ _Kili,_ ” Fili snapped. There was a minor tussle that Ori ignored in favor of cradling his aching ribs, and soon the weight disappeared as Kili was unceremoniously yanked off the bed. “If Master Oin doesn’t want to announce to everyone that Ori’s still blind, that’s his decision! Now, leave him alone -- he’s still wounded.”

“You never leave me alone when _I’m_ wounded,” Kili protested.

“That’s because I’m your big brother, and it’s my job to torment you when you twist your ankle--”

The pain finally eased enough for Ori to regain the use of his lungs for more than labored breathing. “Fili.”

“Besides, do you know what Dori would do to you if he found you bouncing on Ori’s bed, staring at him like he was a bug in a jar?” Fili continued, obviously not hearing him.

“ _Fili_ ,” Ori snapped, regretting it a second later when his ribs protested.

The air had the feeling of two dwarves jumping guiltily in place before Fili said, “Yes, Ori?”

“If you’re just going to yell at each other, get out.” Ori rearranged himself carefully on his bed, and sighed in audible relief when he found a position that wouldn’t aggravate his chest anymore than necessary. “I’m not bored enough that I want to listen to you bicker all night. Day. Whichever it is.”

“We’re sorry,” Kili said quickly.

“We didn’t mean to--” Fili began, but Ori was too annoyed to want to hear either of them out.

“It’s fine,” he said firmly. “Really. I’ve just had a long night, is all.”

“I’d say it was longer than that,” Fili said, his voice growing solemn.

“Yeah,” Kili added. “It was really scary for the past few days--”

The surprise almost made Ori forget about the pain completely. With a blink, he asked, “Days?”

“Yeah,” Fili said. “You were asleep for a really long time. There were times when it looked like you weren’t going to make it.”

“Ori, whatever you do, please don’t die,” Kili said in a rush. A pair of hands took his left hand in a firm grip. "I couldn’t handle it if you died."

Ori sighed heavily. “You _did_ hear Master Oin last night, didn’t you? I’m not in danger anymore.” He tentatively reached up a hand and pressed it against his chest, near his collarbone. It hurt a bit, but it didn’t feel like he was being pounded by a smithing team’s worth of hammers. That, he told himself firmly, was an improvement.

Fili groaned. "Sorry, Ori. Kili likes to be as dramatic as an elf, sometimes.”

“I do _not_ ,” Kili yelped. “You take that back!”

Ori rolled his eyes with a helpless little laugh. “If you two could wait until you’re outside before you start throwing punches, I’d appreciate it.”

“I wasn’t going to throw any punches,” Kili said mulishly before adding an offended, “Ow!”

“That was just a tap,” Fili scoffed. “Come on, Kili, he’s going to be just fine--”

“How do you know?” Kili demanded. “He’s not even able to see yet!”

Ori sighed heavily. “My chest and my eyes are two different things, Kili,” he said with more patience than he probably should have had.

“I know that,” Kili snapped. “And that’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” Fili yelled back. “You’ve been sore like this for days, and you haven’t been eating regularly. What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault this happened in the first place!”

Ori blinked. When the endless stretch of black above him didn’t magically make Kili’s statement make any sense, he frowned in Kili’s general direction. “What?”

“It’s my fault,” Kili mumbled, his voice choked with tears. “If I hadn’t gotten sucker-punched, we could’ve taken them.”

It took a moment to remember what Kili was talking about. When Nyr and Austri had attacked, he remembered that they were walking, and then Kili asked a question, and then one of their “guards” was punching him in the face. “Kili--”

“You don’t understand!” Kili barely managed. “I shouldn’t have been surprised like that! We keep getting our arses handed to us on the training grounds, and I thought that was just because Master Dwalin wasn’t being fair, but I really _am_ that bad! I’m a drunk disgrace to the Line of Durin if I can’t even protect myself!”

Ori sighed, torn between wanting to give Kili a hug and wanting to box his ears. “Kili, you _do_ remember that we were drugged, don’t you? I’m guessing they planned it that way so that we couldn’t defend ourselves. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s Nyr’s and Austri’s for thinking that they could get away with it.”

“See?” Fili said gently. “Ori doesn’t blame you. And neither do I.”

“But--”

“Do you think it was my fault?” Fili asked.

“What--” Kili started with a loud sniff. “Why would I?”

Ori could imagine Fili shrugging, the solemn look on his face. “I’m older than you. Keeping you and Ori safe was -- is -- my responsibility, and I failed.”

Fili sounded like he was telling his brother that he wasn’t responsible for what happened either, but Ori could hear the self-recrimination in his voice.

Kili let out another loud, snot-filled sniffle. “You kept me safe even while you were drugged.”

“Ori still got hurt really badly,” Fili said softly.

Ori groaned loudly, not wanting to listen to another spiral of guilt happen in front of him. “What did I just say? Neither of you are to blame, and if I hear either of you talking about being guilty and having my death on your conscience, I will ask permission from Mahal himself to come back and scare the living daylights out of both of you.”

“Ori--” Fili began, but Ori shook his head, turning to stare up at the ceiling.

“No, I’m not listening anymore. If I end up surviving the two of you and getting my eyesight back, I’m going to prank the two of you until you stop staring at me like I’m going to fall apart at the drop of a hammer.”

There was a startled, guilty silence, to which Ori snorted. “I’m not a mind-reader, you two. I just know you well enough to know what you’d look like.” He deliberately pulled his face into a silly, confused expression that probably made him look as dumb as a post.

“Oi!” Fili protested, sounding deeply offended while a pair of hands that Ori guessed were Kili’s tried to tickle him through the blanket.

Ori snorted as he batted away Kili’s hands. “Don’t protest, you know it’s true. Now, there’s something I want to know about, but I can’t just ask anybody to tell me about it.”

The expectant silence told Ori that if Fili and Kili were a pair of hounds, their ears would have perked up. “What is it?” Fili asked.

Ori thought quickly for a moment -- he’d hoped that a change of subject would help distract them from thinking that they’d killed him before he was actually dead, but he hadn’t quite expected it to work. Still, he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to find out what happened. “How did you manage to find Austri? I thought he was supposed to meet up with Nyr about the money they were supposed to get for kidnapping me.”

“What’re you talking about?” Fili sounded surprised.

Ori smiled sourly. “When I was awake the first time, Nyr was brought in to make sure they’d grabbed the right dwarf.”

There was a long, awkward silence before Kili tried to speak. “Ori--”

Ori sighed loudly. “No. Stop. I’ve officially reached my limit of hearing you two try to apologize anymore about something that was completely out of your control. It happened. It’s done. All of us are safe now, and after everything heals up, and this blindness goes away, everything will be just like it was before.”

“That might be the case for you, but it’s not something that we can just forget about,” Fili said firmly. “Ori, you’re our friend.”

“And we’re… not very good friends,” Kili added awkwardly. “For letting you get kidnapped like that.”

Ori growled. “If you two were closer, I’d grab you by the hair and knock your heads together.” Already irritated from the repeated apologies, he was about to ask what it was going to take to convince them that he was going to be fine when he got a better idea. “All right, then. Tell me what happened after I got taken.”

“You mean before or after the part where I got sucker-punched--” Kili half-mumbled.

Ori groaned loudly. “ _After_.”

There was a long moment before Fili said, “I grabbed Kili and started running. And when I’d got Kili somewhere safe, I went back for you, only there was no sign of you.”

Ori listened with fascination as the two described getting Kili awake, going straight back home to find Master Dwalin and Master Balin (the first to beg for help, the second to beg forgiveness for losing his apprentice), and then being sent to Dori’s house in order to inform him of what had happened. The mental image of Dori hearing about what happened and then bowling them over to find Master Dwalin and give him several pieces of his mind was highly entertaining, though from there, it got confusing.

“Wait, how did you find Austri?” Ori asked, frowning up at the ceiling. He’d been trying to picture everything happening in his mind, but when the story got muddled, he was left staring at blackness again. At some point, Fili and Kili had sat down on the bed, because he could feel the mattress dip in two different spots.

“It wasn’t all that hard,” Kili scoffed, on Ori’s left. “For Master Dwalin, at least. He seemed to have a pretty good idea where to find him.”

Ori snorted. “He must not have been as smart as I thought he was, if he stayed around long enough to get caught.”

“Yeah, well,” Kili said, picking up the tale again, “the four of us found him. At first, he didn’t want to talk about where he’d taken you -- something about him being more scared of whoever paid him than Master Dwalin, which was really stupid.”

Ori frowned carefully, remembering at the last moment to not narrow his eyes. “Do I want to know what happened?”

One of the brothers snorted, and Ori was fairly sure they were trading an amused look. “By the time Master Dwalin and your brother were through with him, he looked worse than you do now.”

Ori breathed in slowly, not sure what to think about that. On the one hand, they’d been able to find him before he’d been moved elsewhere for a more… leisurely interrogation. On the other hand, what _had_ happened to Austri? What had Dori and Mister Dwalin done? He didn’t mind that they’d injured him quite badly, from the sound of it, but he kind of hoped that he could’ve been part of it.

Kili chuckled. “Remind me never to make your brother angry. He looked ready to kill Austri if Master Dwalin hadn’t stepped in when he did.”

Fili snorted. “Leaving him in Master Dwalin’s hands wasn’t showing him any kind of mercy, though.”

“Yeah, that was kind of funny, wasn’t it?” Kili asked, sounding curious. Ori could almost feel the weight of Kili’s eyes on him. “I mean, I understand that your brother would be angry if you were kidnapped, but why would Master Dwalin do that?”

Ori blinked. The ready answer -- that Mister Dwalin was his soulmate -- was simple enough, but then he really, really didn’t want to have to explain his complicated relationship to Fili and Kili. He didn’t think that they would do anything more than tease him, or possibly give him strange looks that he wasn’t able to see at the moment, but if he was having a hard time trying to figure out his own relationship with Mister Dwalin, how was he supposed to be able to explain it to two friends who hadn’t been involved in the situation from the beginning?

“Ori?” Fili murmured. “Are you all right? Do you need us to fetch Master Oin? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere--”

Ori shook his head quickly. “No, I’m fine. I was just a bit… surprised at Mister Dwalin.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least. The idea that his soulmate would be so invested in his safe return that even his apprentices would notice was pretty startling. Maybe it was one of those cases where Mister Dwalin felt he was the only one allowed to be rude to his soulmate. While a bit disheartening, it made the most sense out of all the possible explanations Ori could think of.

“You’re telling us,” Kili said with a snort. “One minute, we’re busting into the place to find Austri, and then he and Dori are telling us to go keep watch outside to make sure they don’t get interrupted. And then those screams.”

Ori’s imagination tried to haphazardly fill in the gaps before he had to stop himself from imagining the voice in his memory turning into either his brother’s or his soulmate’s. “Please don’t give me any details. I really don’t need to know the specifics.”

“He’s right, though,” Fili murmured. The bed creaked as he moved closer to the head of the bed where Ori was reclined. “After your brother and Master Dwalin were done, I almost couldn’t recognize him.”

"That's _really_ not helping, Fili." Ori only barely managed not to wince.

Fili mumbled an apology before finally giving up the ghost and scooting closer until he was laying next to Ori. Kili did the same thing to Ori's left, and Ori couldn't help a small smile. He was going to tell them that he was all right, that everything was going to be just fine, but then Kili picked up the thread again.

"Well, after that, Master Dwalin didn't waste any time. Your brother borrowed one of Fili's swords, and then we went to bust in some heads and rescue you."

Ori nodded. "I remember when you found me that Dori and Mister Dwalin were arguing about having to take care of some dwarves...?"

"Oh, yeah," Kili said. "The place was _crawling_ with dwarves--"

"It wasn't _crawling_ \--" Fili cut in.

"There were still a lot of them!"

"Yes, Kili, there were a lot of them," Fili said with the infinite patience of an elder sibling before he turned his attention back to Ori. "We had a bit of trouble tracking down where you were being held, though. The place was bigger than we were expecting."

"Master Dwalin had said it was some kind of warehouse, but there were all kinds of tunnels and corridors underneath of it," Kili added, an excited grin in his voice. "We nearly got lost a few times before we grabbed one of the dwarves there and made him take us to where you were being held."

"Then how come Mister Dwalin got to me before you did?" Ori asked, frowning for a moment before the pain around his eyes throbbed a bit harder.

"We got separated as soon as we got inside," Fili said. "The guards weren't expecting us, but when we showed up, they gave us a bit of a fight. Master Dwalin went down one corridor, and we went down another with Dori."

"Though it wasn't hard to figure out where he was after that," Kili said with glee. "We just had to follow the dying screams of anybody who was stupid enough to get in his way."

Ori snuggled a little further into his pillow, staring forward and trying to imagine what Mister Dwalin would've looked like as he went through the building, killing dwarves indiscriminately. From the last few times they'd spoken, it was all too easy to imagine the murderous look on his face.

"And then you found me?" he asked, fighting down a shudder.

"That's right," Fili said. "They were keeping you in some kind of meat locker, from what we could tell."

Ori nodded. "I remember that."

The mattress dipped as Kili scooted closer, his voice soft. "You looked really bad."

Ori checked a sigh, gingerly easing himself up until he was sitting more or less upright. He turned his head to look at where Kili's voice had come from. "It's all right. I'm safe now, and I'm right here."

He could feel Kili's hesitation hang in the air for a long moment before Kili wrapped his arms around him and hugged him firmly. Ori gritted his teeth and tried to survive as long as he could without making a sound. There was no way he was going to let Kili feel guilty about giving him a hug when he was in a lot of pain. Apparently, Ori did such a good job of bearing it that a few moments later, Fili hugged him from behind, his mustache braids tickling the nape of his neck.

"I know you don't want to hear it, Ori," Fili murmured against Ori's shoulder. "But we're sorry that they hurt you."

Ori sighed, the pain lancing up from his chest, exploding into his head like a chorus of hammer falls. "Well, I know _you_ don't want to hear it,” he managed, “but I don't blame you for what happened. Everything's going to be just fine."

"Oin said that you weren't healing," Kili mumbled. A moment later, he sprang back with a yelp. "You're still injured! Ori, I'm really sorry--"

Ori glared as best he could without being able to look Kili in the eye. Then he blindly grabbed him and dragged him back into a crushing embrace. "I'd rather get battered and beat up with hugs than have everybody treat me like I'm made of glass."

"But--"

"Hush," Ori said with his best approximation of Dori's stern tone. "Hugs are the best medicine, my brother always says. Well, that and cod liver oil, but seeing as how I don't like cod liver oil, I'll take the hugs."

It seemed to be the best thing to say, because Kili’s arms wrapped around him more slowly than before. Much more gently too, Ori was relieved to feel. Fili’s hands moved to rest on Ori’s shoulders, so light that Ori wasn’t sure if he was feeling them at all.

“I need to lay back down, but you can stay if you want,” Ori murmured.

The brothers murmured something back to him, but Ori wasn’t paying attention. His bed was calling, and the pain in his chest promised to ease if he could find the right way to lay down.

When Ori woke up some time later, the mattress dipped in the place where Fili and Kili lay on the bed, softly snoring on either side of him.

***

A week later, Ori was frowning in what he hoped was Master Oin’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” Dori said, more incredulous than apologetic. “Could you repeat that?”

Master Oin, of course, only snorted. “You understand Westron as well as any of us, lad. Ori, up and out of bed with you. Come on.”

“But I can’t see,” Ori protested weakly. “Everything’s still black.”

“Despite what _some_ dwarves think, I heard you the first time, laddie,” Oin said dryly. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still get some exercise. The time you’ve spent in bed has been good for your chest, but the humors are standing still. They need a bit of movement to stimulate the healing process, and that means you get up and walk around.”

“He can’t possibly go traipsing around this maze in his condition,” Dori spluttered. “What if he needs to sit down and catch his breath?”

“What are you, daft?” Oin demanded. “He’s just walking around the room, not to Erebor and back!”

Ori released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“Fine,” Dori yielded with ill grace. “But the moment he gets tired, back to bed he goes.”

“Dori, I’ll be fine,” Ori gave a token protest, knowing that Dori would only listen if he wanted to. “My bed’s right here.”

He caught himself before he added that he would need to get used to walking around without being able to see sooner or later. As much as Master Oin had assured him that he was doing fine, and his injuries were slowly disappearing, there was always an audible silence whenever the subject of his eyes had come up.

As much as he wanted to be comforted by the idea that his dreams had been prophetic, and that he would be able to stay and continue his apprenticeship, Master Oin had said that it usually took a day or two in order for the side effects of the drug he’d been given to wear off. Ori hadn’t had a particularly large dose -- enough to incapacitate him, true, but he hadn’t drunk as much as Fili and Kili had -- so why was he still suffering from it?

Warm hands and the smell of the perfumes that Dori used when washing his shirts jarred Ori out of his thoughts, along with Dori saying, “I’m going to help you out of bed now. Try not to tense up.”

Of course, it didn’t really matter all that much, since Dori lifted him out of bed with little trouble, and set him so carefully on his feet that Ori found himself wondering if Dori was even letting him put weight on them at all. His knee had mended over the past week, as had the cuts on his wrists and ankles from the manacles. So, really, Ori was able to stand on his own. Whether or not his brother would let him was another matter entirely.

“Dori, if I don’t stand on my own, how am I going to get better?” Ori asked, trying to keep his tone gentle, but knowing that some of his irritation was bubbling up to the surface.

“You’re going to take it easy,” Dori growled from a short distance away. In his mind’s eye, Ori could imagine his brother half-leaning over him, arm wrapped around him in half of a carry. “Wrap your arm around my shoulders. We’ll go slowly.”

Ori found himself suddenly remembering when Dwalin had found him in that frozen hell. How Dwalin had tried to wrap Ori’s arm around his broad shoulders, and how Ori had resisted.

If Dwalin could see him now... Ori forced himself to concentrate on the here and now.

Dori eased him onto his feet, and slowly, he began to walk.

***

“Master, if you have to work, don’t let me keep you,” Ori said when his bedroom door opened. After two weeks of blindness -- one spent in bed, the other spent half-walking, half-carried in useless, stumbling circles until Ori slumped onto his bed in exhaustion -- he’d learned the differences in each tread of his regular visitors’ footsteps.

There was a startled pause, and then Balin announced his presence with a dry, “And a good afternoon to you, Ori. Shall I return another time?”

Ori felt a surge of guilt and annoyance at himself. It wasn’t his master’s fault that he was feeling frustrated about his continued lack of sight. “No, Master, I’m sorry.”

“Are you feeling well?” The door eased shut, and then measured footsteps made their way over to the armchair before it creaked under Balin’s weight. “Shall I send for Oin?”

Ori shook his head, and mumbled an embarrassed, “No, Master, thank you.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to explain why my work would be more important than seeing my student?”

Ori gritted his teeth against the sudden rush of embarrassed relief. “I thought it would be a bit boring to just stare at me to make sure I don’t drop dead, or something.” Even though he couldn’t see his master, he still ended up turning his head away from the source of Balin’s voice. “Master Oin said that I wasn’t in danger anymore.”

“So he’s told me,” Balin said mildly. “Were you not in the mood for visitors? I should’ve asked before I came in, of course.”

“I--” Ori found himself torn. On the one hand, it was nice to have someone to talk to, and to distract him from the world that he _couldn’t_ see, but on the other hand, talking to Balin had been something he’d been dreading. They’d spoken while he was recovering from his injuries, but Ori could feel every minute passing like a hammer against his back, and the longer he remained blind, the more pressing he felt the need to speak to Balin about his apprenticeship.

While he’d been dreaming, it had been easy for his mind to conjure up an image of Master Balin who would keep him on as an apprentice, despite the difficulties brought up by Kollr Longshanks. But now that he was awake, and had been staring into empty blackness for two weeks, it was getting harder to ignore the realities of the situation. If he didn’t get his sight back, he wouldn’t be able to finish his apprenticeship. He would be an invalid for the rest of his life, and as much as he loved Dori, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“A guilder for your thoughts?”

Balin’s voice jarred him out of the thoughts he was willing to pay so much for. “Sorry?”

“I was about to offer a farthing,” Balin said, his tone wanting to make a joke, but gentling just in case he ruffled some feathers by accident. “But if your thoughts are serious enough to put that look on your face, I’m guessing they’re worth a guilder, at least.”

Ori couldn’t help a small smile. “Thank you, Master, but I don’t need the charity.”

“And you think that I’ll be providing charity in some other fashion?” Balin asked, his tone deceptively mild enough that Ori wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been paying attention.

Ori breathed in and out slowly, tamping down on the impulse to be impertinent. “Aren’t you already?” he asked softly.

“How do you mean?” Balin sounded more curious than anything else.

“It's been two weeks since I was--” Ori stopped in mid-sentence when he remembered fists slamming into his stomach, icy cold water freezing his blood. “--since I came back.”

“Aye,” Balin said slowly, still patiently waiting for an explanation.

“I still can’t see anything,” Ori said softly, feeling worse than the time he’d ruined his father’s very last ceramic figurine. “Not even a difference between light and dark.”

There was a noticeable silence that stretched between the two of them like a widening chasm.

“Master Oin said to give it time, but it’s been two weeks,” Ori murmured. “I feel like I’m just sitting here, waiting for something that may never happen. And if I can’t see...” He breathed in slowly, concentrating on filling his lungs with air so that he wouldn’t do something silly, like start crying. “I’ve wanted to be a scribe since Dori taught me my letters.”

“What makes you think you can’t be one?” Balin asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Master,” Ori said with a heavy sigh. “There’s no such thing as a blind scribe.”

“Has Master Oin told you something that your brother doesn’t know?” Balin asked, still in that irritatingly unconcerned tone. “I’m sure Dori will be disappointed and outraged that he didn’t get a chance to yell at him.”

Ori rolled his eyes, earning him a muffled huff of laughter from his master. “Master, it’s been two weeks--”

“So you’ve said, lad,” Balin cut in easily. “And if Oin was worried about your sight, he’d have said something by now.”

“Unless he’s not telling me about it,” Ori muttered.

“Oin doesn’t sugarcoat the truth for his patients,” Balin said. “If he’s not let on that you’ve lost your sight for good, I think it’s a safe bet that you still have a chance.”

“And if I don’t?” Ori hated how small his voice had gotten at that moment, but it felt like if he’d said it any louder, it would somehow have come true. No matter how worried he was about being blind for the rest of his life, he still had some small hope that it wasn’t really happening.

“Then we’ll figure out another way to teach you, lad.” Balin’s voice wasn’t one that demanded obedience. It was more like the sound of a dwarf who would move mountains in order to teach a blind dwarf how to become a master scribe.

Ori gritted his teeth hard and tried to think about something else, anything to keep from crying.

He heard Balin rise from the armchair and walk over to his side. Carefully easing his weight down on Ori’s bed, one of Balin’s warm hands took his left. “You’re my student, Ori, and I haven’t given up on a student yet.”

Ori bit his bottom lip as hard as he could without drawing blood. His eyes were stinging. With some difficulty, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Master--”

“It’s all right, lad,” Balin said, his voice soothing and gentle. His hand squeezed his. “You’ll be just fine.”

Ori could feel the tears running down his cheeks, and his newly-healed nose stopping up before Balin’s arms enveloped him.

***

There was a pair of footsteps that Ori didn’t recognize. He wasn’t sure what time they showed up at his door, but he was fairly sure it was when Dori wasn’t around.

They were heavy, but not like Balin’s sure tread, or Dori’s quick steps. As odd as it sounded in his own head, Ori thought that the pair of feet belonging to those footsteps stepped with purpose, as though each step was rooting the stranger to the mountain itself, as if mere dwarves couldn’t move him aside.

“Hello?” he tried, a bit nervously. If he was hearing things, he didn’t want to look like a idiot, but if he wasn’t, it was only polite to let the dwarf at his doorstep know that it was all right to come in.

Silence ensued.

“Hello?” Ori tried again.

The footsteps sounded again, this time carefully walking away from the door.

Laying his head back down on the pillow, Ori frowned, wondering who his visitor could’ve been.

***

Fili and Kili’s footsteps were absolutely unmistakable for the very simple fact that they sounded like a herd of ponies in full run. Ori’s eyes snapped open at the disconcerting rumble that had entered his dreams, just in time for the door to his bedroom to fly open, and the crown princes of Erebor barrel in.

“Morning, Ori!” Kili announced two seconds before he landed on the bed. Luckily, Ori had had enough practice of curling into a defensive ball to not be taken by surprise at the sudden weight of a nearly-grown dwarf landing on his bed.

“You could walk into my room like a normal dwarf,” Ori huffed, gingerly stretching out his legs a few inches before he bumped into Kili’s body. “And not jump on my bed. I’m still healing.”

“No, you’re not!” Kili protested with a grin in his voice. “You’re able to get up and walk around now. Let’s go to the training grounds--”

“I’m not that recovered!” Ori yelped, trying to dive unsuccessfully under his quilt. “I can walk around my room, and that’s it!”

“Aww, that’s no fun,” Kili whined. “You should come with us--” There was a significant pause. Ori was fairly sure Kili was having one of his Brilliant Ideas. “We can see how good your aim is with your slingshot!”

“You remember that I’m bl--” Ori frowned in Kili’s direction before something occurred to him. “Shouldn’t you two be training?”

“Not if our masters are off doing something more important,” Fili replied.

“So, we’ve got the day off,” Kili added, his weight flopping into a lazy sprawl. “And we chose to come visit.”

Ori snorted. “I seem to remember you practicing on your own a morning or two. Did your uncle lock you out of the armory after you tried to steal his books?”

“You’re getting as bad as Master Dwalin,” Fili muttered.

Ori’s spine stiffened, and he could almost see a pair of cold, blue eyes glaring at him. “I’m sure _he_ would think you were trying to get out of training, even if your other masters don’t.”

“Why would you think that?” Kili asked, sounding curious.

Ori thought quickly before the answer came to him. He had to stop himself from snorting at how simple it was. “I remember what he was like when I saw him at the training ground. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with him.”

“Can’t get in trouble if he’s not around to punish us,” Fili pointed out.

"Not around?" Ori couldn’t stop himself from frowning again. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it seemed very odd that Dwalin wouldn’t stay close to the Line of Durin. “Do you know why?”

“Uncle says that he’s picked up extra patrol shifts, but he’s not around the market square, or any of the places he usually patrols,” Kili replied. “We already checked.”

“Why would you check?” Ori asked, mystified.

“Because Master Dwalin hasn’t taken extra shifts since he started training us nearly two years ago,” Fili replied. “So, I talked to one of his sergeants to see where he was, and she said that she hadn’t seen Master Dwalin around for a while.”

“Which one?” Kili asked, sounding curious. “Are you talking about the one with the thick, black hair that never fits under her helmet quite right?”

“No, the one with the grey in her temples, but the red in her--”

Ori cleared his throat pointedly. “I hate to interrupt, but you’re saying that Master Dwalin isn’t around, and he’s lying about where he’s going?”

“Pretty much,” Kili said. Ori was fairly sure that Kili was shrugging as he said it. “Uncle won’t tell us anything about it, though.”

“So, we’re minding our own business, like Uncle Thorin told us to,” Fili said, in a quelling, older-brother tone.

“We are, we are,” Kili said quickly. “And, because we’re good dwarves who mind our own business, we’re here visiting our very sick friend. Isn’t that right, Ori?”

“I’m not sick,” Ori said firmly. “I’m injured. There’s a difference.”

“But you can still get out of bed,” Kili said hopefully.

“He can’t go far,” Fili said. “Just around the room.”

“Around the room, promise.”

Ori didn’t trust the innocent tone in Kili’s voice for a minute. In fact, he thought he felt a headache coming on.

***

“Your chest is looking much better, lad,” Oin said in a voice that was just a little too loud. When Ori winced, he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“My head,” Ori murmured. He tried to keep it quieter than usual, but it felt like his own voice was reverberating around his head like a line of drums that hadn’t been struck at the same moment.

Thick fingers against his head made him wince as the pain went from a steady drumbeat to a pounding work-rhythm. Here and there, the fingers pressed and dug into his skin before finally, sweet relief came, and he was released.

He laid his head down as gently as he could on his pillow, and sighed gratefully when it didn’t feel like the drumming was getting any worse. Ori breathed slowly through his nose, trying to think of soothing tea, or how lovely the bed felt under his head.

If Oin said anything further, it was lost to the slow, steady pounding in his head.

***

Ori found himself awake when the headache abated. It was a shame, really, because he would’ve appreciated being able to sleep without his head pounding. He started to wonder why he’d just woken up when the footsteps came again, down the hall.

Ori stared into blackness, knowing that he was alone in the room. He couldn’t hear the heavy breathing that meant Dori had fallen asleep in the armchair again, or any other noises that meant the room was occupied.

Instead, there was an eerie, almost expectant silence.

Left to stare up at a ceiling he couldn’t see, Ori suddenly found himself realizing that this would be the perfect time for an assassin to strike. He was alone, unarmed, and unless there was a guard standing outside his door -- which he knew there wasn’t -- he was totally defenseless. Sure, he could try rolling off the bed and backing away from the door while screaming for help, but if the would-be assassin was worth his weight in steel, he’d be able to dispatch Ori fairly quickly. Or possibly kidnap him again.

The thought made a shiver run down his spine. No. He wasn’t going to go through _that_ again. He was a bit startled to discover that he would rather get himself killed than go through that kind of torment ever again.

As much as he was steadfast in his decision, Ori couldn’t help but be alarmed at how quickly he’d made it. Before he could dwell on it any further, the footsteps came again, closer to the door now. The dwarf -- whoever he was -- was standing right outside his bedroom.

“Good evening,” Ori said, surprised at how calm his voice was. Durin’s beard, he didn’t just _sound_ calm. He _was_ calm. No matter what happened next, he was ready for it.

There was no answer.

“You may as well come in,” Ori pointed out, shifting in his bed until he was sitting upright. “I can hear you.”

Again, no one answered him.

“If you’re trying to make me think that I’m hearing things,” Ori said acerbically, “you’re going to have to work a bit harder. I can recognize the footsteps of just about all of my regular visitors. Yours are the only ones I don’t.”

When there was another stretch of silence, Ori sighed, and just didn’t care about civility anymore. “If you’ve been hired to either kidnap me or kill me on orders from Kollr Longshanks or Captain Solvi -- though my money’s on Longshanks -- you may as well get it over with. I’m not going to be kidnapped again, thank you.”

Suddenly, as if Ori had used magic words, the footsteps retreated quickly, each footstep sounding with purpose, all the way down the corridor.

Ori winced as his headache returned with a vengeance, but he told himself it was well worth the trouble.

***

Dori was almost a blessing, because when he realized what was happening, the number of visitors dramatically decreased. Ori remembered hearing the words “blinding headache”, because he’d snorted in amusement, whimpered pitifully, and then tried in vain to keep his head from splitting in two. Whoever was wielding the hammer and chisel was being quite cruel, especially since he was still using his head.

When the headache had first started, there had been moments when it would ease just enough to give Ori hope that it would go away on its own, but after another century of darkness, interrupted only by sleeping, painkillers, and meals, the moments of respite were all but gone.

Master Oin had started visiting a lot more often, checking his ribs, and his eyes. Surprisingly, the ribs were very nearly healed. All of the other little pains had disappeared with a minimum of fuss, leaving only his eyes.

Ori closed them now, reminding himself that everything was going to be fine.

Master Balin had never given up on a student yet. Kili kept wheedling him to come to the training grounds with him, saying they could try teaching him how to fight while blind. Fili, even if he was trying to be a responsible older brother, hadn’t necessarily objected to Kili’s ideas. Dori, of course, was Dori, and would always be Dori, and if Ori gave him even half a chance, Dori would swaddle him in so many blankets for the rest of his life that he would be in danger of overheating all the time.

And Dwalin was busy doing something that even Fili and Kili didn’t know anything about. Their uncle had lied to them, so whatever his soulmate was doing, it was either very dangerous, highly illegal, or quite possibly both.

Ori wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Ori wasn’t sure if he wanted Dwalin to speak to him, or to disappear from Ered Luin entirely. Part of Ori wanted to give Dwalin a piece of his mind, and have the older dwarf apologize for his behavior -- and mean it. But another part of him didn’t want to have to see Dwalin again, because each time he imagined Dwalin in his mind’s eye, Dwalin was always glaring at him, or covered in ice and ready to freeze him to death, or something equally horrible. He’d never seen his soulmate smile once, and that was depressing.

He wanted to talk to Dwalin, he didn’t want to talk to Dwalin. He wanted for Dwalin to smile when he looked at Ori. He wanted Dwalin to just leave him alone.

And most of all, he wanted this blasted headache to be gone already.


	23. Always Hiding Behind Something (TW: Flashback)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori wakes up in the middle of the night, and has a conversation that doesn't turn out like he was hoping it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Elsajeni, Penniform, and ForAllLove for their beta-reading amazement and encouragement. Thanks also to thejerseydevile and other people who've been giving me pompoms and good vibes and awww. I feel sufficiently mauled by warm fuzzies and all the Feels.
> 
> Trigger Warning! Ori is going to have a flashback in this chapter! The good news is, it's the very first part, so it's over and done with, and doesn't take up the whole chapter! The bad news is, Ori has a flashback, and it sucks! Beware!
> 
> All of that being said, I'm so sorry! Not only is the chapter about half as long as the typical run has been, but... well... yeah. *hides*
> 
>  **ETA:** Guess what? This chapter has art! (Okay, it's a commission, but it's still _amazing._ )
> 
> [It's very pretty. You should go see.](http://protagonistes.tumblr.com/post/87518438263/youre-going-to-have-to-kill-me-first-he)

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, jarring Ori out of what had been a sound slumber. Solid boots, each of them as heavy as hammers, as if they were rooted to the mountain with purpose. And they were getting closer.

“ ‘You may as well get it over with’?” the voice asked mildly, suddenly in his ear. Hot breath brushed almost tenderly against his neck. A trail of ice started from the corner of his left eyebrow and traced down, down, down over his cheekbone, to caress his lower lip. “Bold words for a little dwarfling who was ready to lay down and die.”

“I don’t know where he is.” The words clattered around Ori's teeth. That single touch had sent his whole body shivering again. 

“Oh, I don’t _care_ where he is,” the voice said, sounding amused. 

The trail of ice moved back over his cheek, cupping it gently before the familiar chill spread over his skin. 

“I just don’t think you’re taking me seriously enough.”

There was an awful _pulling_ sensation, and Ori could feel, inch by inch, as his skin was peeled off his face with excruciating care. The pain came moments later, slow but sharp -- like ripping a hangnail that took the skin with it in a long, narrow strip. His eyes wide and staring sightlessly at the ceiling, Ori couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

The air changed, cool and ominous. His body was numb from too much water, too much chill. 

_What just happened? Did I pass out?_ Ori thought quickly. _How long have I been out?_ It couldn’t have been that long ago, not with the way his cheek was still throbbing. He wasn’t shivering anymore from the cold, though, so that meant it could’ve been longer.

There were footsteps outside the door, the same heavy, purposeful footsteps.

For a wild moment, Ori couldn’t understand what he was hearing. When it solidified into something his mind could make sense of, his heart started hammering in his chest. He could feel a shriek trying to claw its way out of his throat.

The voice was outside the door, about to come in again. He was going to ask those stupid questions, and he was going to keep hitting him and hitting him and drenching him in ice water like thousands of knives stabbing him to the bone--

_No._

The thought was a punch to the gut.

_No._

His arms flailed, throwing off the heavy weight of the quilt off from on top of him.

_Not again._

He wrestled with the constricting cloth of blankets, his legs kicking out uselessly before he managed to right himself.

He’d get out. He’d figure out how to get out, find Dori, anybody.

His heartbeat thumped hard and fast in his ears. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. His legs propelled him forward in jerky, uneven steps.

The door creaked open slowly, and then Ori pounced. 

“You’re going to have to kill me first,” he half-shrieked, reaching out blindly, grasping--

Catching on something solid. Scrabbling against something like leather.

Warm hands caught his, too hot to bear, harder than steel and just as impossible to break.

“ _Ori_.”

Hearing the rough, familiar burr so close to him shocked Ori into gasping for air, the darkness splintering around him into a jagged mix of hot and cold.

“Come back,” came the snapped order. “I don’t know where you are. Come back.”

Just as sharply as the darkness had broken into so many splintered shards, it solidified again into a single, blank formlessness. 

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Where--”

There was a slow, steady intake of breath before Dwalin spoke again. “You’re in your bedroom. The halls of Thorin Oakenshield, in Ered Luin.”

Ori frowned into the darkness. “I can’t see it.”

“Use your other senses,” Dwalin growled.

The hands wrapped firmly around Ori’s wrists pulled with steady, even pressure until he stumbled a few steps, and his hands were pressed against cloth of different textures.

“Feel the weave under your fingertips,” Dwalin ordered. “Try to find the seams.”

Ori’s fingers started traveling almost without his realizing it. Slowly, they encountered dips and folds in the fabric, and then the thread worked in slightly crooked lines. As the hands on his wrists pulled him along, he could feel the changes in texture, some patches crisp like washed linen, and others worn smooth. It took longer than it should have to realize that he was touching the quilt on his bed, one of the ones that Mum had made before she died.

“Where are you?” Dwalin asked after a long silence.

“I’m…” Ori licked his lips, feeling like his tongue was made of sandpaper. “I’m in my room.”

“What’s your name?”

Ori scowled, turning in the direction of Dwalin’s voice. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dwalin snorted. “What happened to your cheek?”

“My what?” Ori frowned, the question surprising him out of his irritation. It sounded like the sort of stupid, half-hearted prank Fili or Kili would pull when they were bored, but given the firmness in Dwalin’s tone, Ori knew he meant business.

With his body unclenching in stages, Ori felt his left cheek start throbbing in earnest. A swipe of his left hand came away sticky. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together slowly, remembering how his captor had used fingernails to slowly scratch at his face.

Except it hadn’t been his faceless captor at all, had it? Before he could follow that line of thought to darker places, Dwalin cleared his throat pointedly.

Ori flinched away from the sound, annoyed with himself when he did so.

“Well?” Dwalin demanded. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” Ori mumbled, feeling like a dwarfling who’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, and hating every moment of it.

“Aye, ‘nothing’,” Dwalin drawled. Ori could just _see_ the aggressive smirk on the older dwarf’s face. “Get back into bed. I’ll get something for that.”

With a head full of steam already, Ori straightened, trying to fold his arms over his chest without shivering. If Dwalin -- his soulmate, a dwarf who had, up until this point, treated him like he was worse than the dirt on the bottom of his boots -- thought that he could just order him around and expect Ori to just do everything he said without question, he was going to be in for a shock.

“Get back into bed,” Dwalin growled, his patience audibly wearing thin.

Ori hoped his scowl was impressive, but knowing his luck, his gaze was probably focused on Dwalin’s beard. “Why should I?”

“Don’t even try it,” Dwalin growled, making all of the hairs on the back of Ori’s neck stand on end, “If I have to tie you up to keep you in bed, I will.” 

Ori swallowed hard as his mind’s eye provided him with the picture of Dwalin following through on his threat. The taller dwarf would grab one of his arms, slam him against a wall, keep one large, muscular arm against his throat as he used his free hand to tie Ori up so thoroughly he’d be unable to move. From what he remembered of his soulmate’s physical presence, Ori was sure that Dwalin could do it without breaking a sweat, even if Ori struggled against him.

“Now,” Dwalin’s voice was closer, and Ori could feel the body heat coming from the taller dwarf in front of him. Ori lifted his head, trying to keep his gaze in the general vicinity of Dwalin’s face. “It’s time to do as you’re told, and get back into bed.”

Ori felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I’m not a _child_ ,” he half-mumbled, feeling small and helpless.

“Sure you’re not,” Dwalin drawled. “Now, if you’re done, get into bed.”

“I don’t want to,” Ori said.

The only response he got was an amused silence that spoke louder than words.

Of _course_ Dwalin was laughing at him.

Ori tried to think of something to say that didn’t make him look like an immature dwarfling who was refusing just to be difficult. The best that he could come up with was a lame, “Dori taught me that it was impolite to be in bed when entertaining visitors.”

“You’re too irritating to be entertaining,” Dwalin said flatly. “But if you want to be stubborn, fine.”

 _He’s one to talk,_ Ori thought to himself sourly, _seeing as how he’s the one who’s been avoiding me since I first saw him without his helmet on._

Out loud, he said, “I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing it’s late if Dori isn’t here.” The implied _What are_ you _doing here?_ hung in the air between them.

Dwalin snorted. “When you’re speaking with someone, you should be plain about it.”

Ori scowled, not liking the idea of his soulmate lecturing him on how to have a conversation. “Would you like to provide an example for me?” he asked snidely. He knew that it made him sound like a dwarfling, but he was rapidly losing the ability to care.

“Fine,” Dwalin snapped. “I’m leaving.”

Ori blinked, surprise overtaking his irritation for a moment. “We haven’t been arguing _that_ long, have we?”

“I’m leaving Ered Luin,” Dwalin said through gritted teeth.

Ori could hear his impatience at having to deal with a simpleton so clearly that it took a moment for what he said to sink in. “Ered Luin?” he parroted, not understanding for a long moment. That wasn’t right. Dwalin couldn’t leave Ered Luin. He was a captain with the City Watch. He was training Fili and Kili. He couldn’t just abandon his post.

Despite his intense annoyance with his soulmate at the moment, Ori couldn’t help feeling like his stomach was plummeting, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Are you coming back?”

“No,” Dwalin growled. After a moment, he added with exaggerated patience, “Not for some time.”

Ori frowned. “What do you mean, ‘not for some time’?”

“I mean, ‘not for some time’,” Dwalin growled again, starting to sound more like a dog than a dwarf. “Pretending to be daft isn’t winning you any battles.”

Ori gritted his teeth hard enough that it felt like they were starting to crack under the strain. If he was able to see, he was fairly sure he would reach out and try to strangle his soulmate. Or at least punch him in the nose. “All right, then, where are you going?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Dwalin said, his tone forbidding. 

Ori wanted nothing more than to lash out, whether it was punching his soulmate in the face, strangling him, or just yelling at him until his own voice went hoarse. He hated not being able to see Dwalin’s face, because even if Dwalin was still staring at him like he was something to be scraped off the bottom of his boots, Ori could’ve at least glared back at him. The only thing that kept him from shouting was because he knew that someone would wake up and probably run to fetch Dori, and his eldest brother needed all the rest he could get, what with his constant presence every time Ori so much as opened his eyes.

Ori closed his eyes and tried to calm down. After several breaths, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to speak without yelling, so he tried to pretend that Kili was standing in front of him instead, and was telling him about a brand-new idea that was guaranteed to end in disaster and an irate Thorin Oakenshield. “When are you leaving?” he asked finally with surprising evenness.

“Soon.”

Ori felt the headache of the past few weeks rushing back with a vengeance, one particularly insistent hammer pounding just above his left eye. “I see.”

A long enough silence filled the room that Ori thought that Dwalin had snuck out of his room and managed to close the door on silent hinges, but then Dwalin spoke.

“Whatever you hear, you’re to keep your nose of out of it, and that’s final.”

Unfortunately for him, Ori was already angry and the flippant reply came instantly. “How am I supposed to keep my nose out of ‘it’ if I don’t even know what ‘it’ is?” 

“What did I say about pretending to be daft, lad?” Dwalin said with a matching sneer in his tone. “I’m sure you’ll know it when you see it.”

Ori’s jaw throbbed in time with the pounding in his head. A flash of inspiration reminded him of what Dori would do with snotty customers. “I’m not _seeing_ much of anything these days, thank you.”

“You know what I meant.” Ori heard Dwalin plant his boots on the floor with two straightforward thuds. “If you have any sense at all, you’re to keep your nose out of it.”

“If I have any sense at all?” Ori asked. He was amazed at himself that his voice was still remarkably calm, even as his hands clenched into fists. “Unlike Fili and Kili, I know how to keep out of trouble.” His throat hurt a little from trying to keep his temper reined in. The fact that Dwalin assumed he was just going to charge headfirst into whatever trouble was going to happen would’ve hurt before this evening, but now it just angered him more.

“Oh, aye,” Dwalin said, a sneering smile in his voice. “You’ve done _marvelously_ up to this point.”

Ori felt his cheeks burn. “Being kidnapped wasn’t something I _wanted_ ,” he said sharply. “Being tortured wasn’t something I _wanted_. Reaching the point where I’m too bloody _frozen_ to care whether or not I live or die,” he gritted out into the blackness. “That wasn’t something I _wanted_.”

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the loud panting between them. It was then that Ori realized that at some point during his rant, he’d grabbed the front of Dwalin’s jacket and had yanked himself closer to him, because there was no way that he was strong enough to drag Dwalin anywhere he didn’t want to go.

Two large hands reached up and took hold of his before slowly, firmly removing them from Dwalin’s jacket.

“I’m leaving,” Dwalin said, his voice low and dangerous. “And if you get involved, you’ll suffer worse than what’s happened to you so far. So, do everyone a favor and _keep your nose out of it._ ”

Ori opened his mouth, ready to snap back that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but then he felt his hands being released, followed by Dwalin’s hands landing on his shoulders with enough force to give Dori a run for his money.

“Stick close to Balin,” Dwalin ordered. “He’ll keep an eye on you and make sure nothing else happens.” With a last shove as if to emphasize his words, Dwalin let go of Ori’s shoulders.

“Dwalin--” Ori began, his heart leaping into his throat to thud in time with his headache. The sudden feeling of nakedness, defenselessness, left him desperate to reach out and grab Dwalin again, if nothing else but to feel like he had an anchor in the darkness. 

“And get back in bed,” Dwalin snapped, sounding further away.

The door opened, and then shut. Dwalin’s steady footsteps receded down the hallway.

With Dwalin gone so abruptly, Ori felt himself being yanked in different directions. With how angry he was, Ori wanted to follow his soulmate down the corridor and demand a better explanation than ‘I’m leaving and I’m not going to tell you anything because you’re too stupid to understand’. But his head was pounding in earnest, and all of the stress of being lost in the memories of his kidnapping before Dwalin had arrived was catching up to him, leaving him wanting to crawl back into bed.

Deliberately not thinking about the fact that Dwalin had been the one to order him back to bed, Ori slowly felt his way back in the direction of his bed, keeping his hands out to make sure he didn’t bump into anything. When his fingers finally made contact with his sheets, he poured himself under the covers, grabbing the quilt and rearranging it over himself by feel. He drew it up over his head, feeling like a dwarfling hiding from monsters, and curled up as tightly as he dared.

With the weight of cloth all around him, he was finally tethered to the world again. Burrowing into his pillow and moving the edge of the quilt just enough to smell fresh air, Ori was relieved to feel his headache slowly receding. With the brief respite, he couldn’t stop thinking over what had just happened, and disliking the whole thing intensely.

Instead of being a strong, capable adult and giving Dwalin a piece of his mind about how he felt ignored and treated like a child, Ori had just clammed up while Dwalin ordered him around. He’d wanted to say something more than protesting that he wasn't a child, but the words hadn’t come. They were coming now, of course -- that was always the way of things, to come up with cutting remarks before and after, but never in the middle of things, when he needed it most. 

The remarks about how Dwalin thought Ori had been playing at being stupid hadn’t helped either.

Whatever it was that Dwalin was involved in, it had been more important than coming by even for five minutes to see how Ori was doing. Dori had managed to find the time to visit, as had Fili and Kili. Master Balin had been there as well, and even if Ori wondered just how appropriate it was for a master to stay at his student’s bedside, he’d still felt comforted to know that his master cared about him.

If Dwalin had been his husband, his absence would’ve been remarked on, and Ori guessed that someone would’ve grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to Ori’s bedside so that the two of them could have it out about Ori feeling abandoned. Dwalin being his soulmate made it worse, because it meant that the other half of his soul either didn’t want to be near him, or just hadn't even given him a moment's thought.

If Ori had said anything about the two of them being soulmates, he had a feeling that Dwalin would’ve been even worse off. The trouble was, he would’ve had to tell Fili and Kili all about it, which made his headache worse just thinking about it. Oh, he was fairly sure that Fili and Kili would be supportive (after they finished making faces), but he’d had enough of sharing this part of his life against his will with the people closest to him. As silly as it was, Ori wanted to keep his connection with Dwalin to himself for as long as possible. 

Of course, now that Dwalin _had_ finally turned up, Ori was glad that neither Dori nor Master Balin had dragged him in sooner. The one time that Dwalin said more than three words to him without hiding behind his helmet, and what had happened? Dwalin hadn’t listened to him, and when he did, he’d just laughed at what he’d said, and said that he was just as bad as Fili and Kili were at getting himself into trouble. Well, all right, he hadn’t laughed out loud, but Ori had heard it in his voice.

Ori had wanted to follow Dwalin as far down the corridor as it took to get a straight answer out of him about what was going on, but deep down, the headache had been a convenient excuse. He hadn’t left his room since he’d discovered he was blind. The one time that Fili and Kili had tried to drag him out to the Meatgrinder over Ori’s protests had ended the moment that Dori appeared, for which Ori had been infinitely grateful. The idea of leaving his room now, alone and groping at walls in order to find his ways, trying to follow Dwalin by hearing alone… it had been too much.

When he’d had his hands on Ori’s shoulders, Dwalin had felt like the only thing that had been _real_ , and Dwalin letting go of him left him feeling like someone had reached into his body and yanked out his guts, dropping them on the floor like so many bits of trash. The only way he’d known he wasn’t falling down some dark pit was because he could still feel the floor under his feet. Without Dwalin there to hold on to, he’d felt too scared to move.

Ori scowled, resentment bubbling up inside of him. He hadn’t needed to hold onto Dwalin’s hand like a dwarfling at any point before in his life. He hadn’t even known Dwalin _existed_ until four or five months ago, when he’d drawn that stupid picture in the first place, and he’d been thrust into the idea that someone had been created just for him, and there was a chance that he might disappoint his soulmate just by not being smart enough, or strong enough, or good enough.

With the way he felt now, and with the wretched pounding in his head, Ori was sick of trying to be smart enough, or strong enough, or whatever. He had been doing all right for himself before Dwalin had shown up in his life, and while things had gotten better -- getting an apprenticeship with a teacher who understood him and treated him with respect, real friends who wanted to drag him out to a pub after a long day (even if they were annoying from time to time) -- he’d done it on his own. Master Balin thought he was smart enough. Fili and Kili thought that he was good enough to be their friend. And Dori still loved him, so he hadn’t changed into some dwarf that his brother wouldn’t want to know anymore.

A small part of him hurt over the fact that Dwalin hadn’t even bothered to come see him, let alone say a kind word to him. His soulmate had all but shoved him away when Ori had desperately needed comforting. But that was only a small part of how Ori felt.

The rest of him was angry and alone, his head was screaming, and he hated dwelling on his soulmate when his soulmate hadn’t given any thought to asking what Ori wanted, or how he felt, or any part of his opinion.

Scowling under the quilt and not caring that the air was getting stuffy because the quilt had settled over him, Ori thought about Dwalin’s face. About his tattooed crown, his full, black beard, his blue eyes.

And he let go. 

After all, Dwalin had told him to do so weeks ago when Ori had been worried about him. So, he was doing it. He was letting go of the idea that he and Dwalin could just fall together and be happy. He was letting go of a vague future where they lived together and argued over nothing at all and smiled at each other while they were doing it. He was letting go of needing to prove himself worthy of a soulmate like Dwalin, son of Fundin. And more importantly, he was letting go of the idea that he needed his soulmate in his life at all.

As the list of things grew, so did the pounding in his head -- harder and harder until he was nearly crying from the pain. Exhaustion, physical and emotional, won out instead, and miraculously, Ori melted into a deep sleep.

He didn’t know how long he slept, only that he dreamt of teams of dwarves hard at work on dozens of blocks of ore, hammering away at red-hot metal, and not caring about the din.

It was the lack of pain that woke him. He grumbled to himself that the _one_ time that he wasn’t in pain, his body had decided to wake up him for it instead of enjoying the reprieve. He was still curled on his side, but at some point during his nap, he’d thrown off the quilt from over his head. He couldn’t help a sigh of relief at how blissful it felt, though.

He opened his eyes more out of habit than hope.

For a long moment, he stared uncomprehendingly at one of the armchairs Balin usually kept in his office.

And then Ori’s eyes widened when he realized what had happened.


	24. What Passes For Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori's returning to life, and as usual, nothing ever goes the way he thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biggest thanks to Penniform, Elsajeni, ForAllLove, and kailthia for their hard work in keeping me somewhat sane and dealing with my flakiness while writing this monster. You're all amazing, and I love you. :D

Ori’s face started to hurt from smiling so much a few days after he got back to work.

He smiled when he straightened his shoulders out of their usual hunch.

He smiled each time he popped his knuckles to relieve the stiffness in his fingers.

He smiled when a fat drop of ink landed in the middle of the page he was copying, and he needed to recopy the whole thing.

Luckily, Balin hadn’t said anything, though whenever Ori would make a new pot of tea, he would give his student a look like they were sharing a private joke between them.

Ori was tempted to ask if Balin had ever had his own brush with blindness, but thinking about how depressing that darkness was, how frightening it was… Ori knew he needed some time to himself before he tried to talk about it with anyone else.

Despite his face hurting, and a sense of something having changed between himself and his master, Ori was a bit startled to find how easily they were sliding back into a routine. In the early hours of the morning, he would wake up, get the tea and cookies from the kitchens (along with a little something to eat for himself), head to Balin’s office, and then start work. A break at midday to stretch and eat something, and then back to work until dinner, when he’d be released for the evening to do as he wished, “within reason”.

Ori couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been too simple to return to something ordinary. Kollr and Solvi lingered at the edges of his dreams, and made appearances in his nightmares like faceless predators ready to pounce on him. 

But nothing happened. 

He wasn’t attacked. He wasn’t kidnapped. He’d been expecting monsters to jump out from behind the corner for days, but all of the corners he encountered were bare.

There were differences, however, that kept Ori from thinking that his being kidnapped had just been a bad dream.

For one thing, he and Fili and Kili were running out of ways to amuse themselves. 

The first time that Fili started to suggest they visit the Miner’s Drift to unwind after a long day of training, Ori saw that both Fili and Kili looked as ill as he felt. By unanimous vote, they went to the Central Meatgrinder to watch the City Watch recruits getting yelled at by their weapons masters. It got boring quickly, but none of them offered other ideas for what to do with their time.

He didn’t go to visit Dori anymore, either, though Dori came at least twice a week to make sure he was eating and to check for himself that Thorin Oakenshield’s household could properly look after his youngest brother. Ori knew that Dori still wasn’t convinced that Ori wasn’t in any real danger of suddenly dropping dead. At first, Dori wouldn’t leave his side, worried that he’d go blind again just as quickly as he’d recovered from it, but by the time a week had passed, and Ori’s sight had remained unchanged, he’d finally allowed himself to be bullied into going back home. 

Ori wasn’t sure what had happened to his position at the tailoring shop, since Dori was being irritatingly closed-mouthed about it, but seeing as how his brother was threatening to come back to visit every day, Ori had a feeling Dori was out of work.

And then there was the fact that Ori never went on errands alone anymore. Before the kidnapping, Ori would’ve been offended by the assumption that he needed a babysitter. But now, whenever Fili or Kili were conveniently available to walk with him while he returned books to Master Hamal, it was more of a relief than anything else. Fili and Kili had a way of getting distracted that made it feel less like a chore, and more like they were spending time together when they probably shouldn’t have been.

One detour brought the three of them to the tailoring shop one afternoon, and sure enough, Dori wasn’t there, and hadn’t been there for some time.

The master, a grizzled dwarf whose braids were nearly as intricate as Dori’s were, shook his head sadly. “It was a shame to lose Dori like that.”

Ori nodded, feeling a bit glum on his brother’s behalf. Even if tailoring hadn’t been Dori’s craft, Dori still loved the shop and the apprentices that worked there. “Yeah.”

The master snorted. “The real shame of it is that he didn’t even need to leave, either.”

Ori traded a look with Fili and Kili, who looked just as confused as he felt. Turning back to the master, he asked, ”Excuse me?”

The master wandered the store, shifting a dress in rich brocade on a mannequin until the seams sat straight on its shoulders. “He didn’t even need to go,” he said firmly. “I’d been worried about certain _types_ around here, hassling my customers, cracking their knuckles and eyeing Dori like they think they can take him on, and then what happens?” He turned to a display and took a rag out of his pocket to polish the gemstones on a wedding veil. “The bastards disappear like someone lit their beards on fire.”

Fili frowned, clearing his throat. “Do you know where they might’ve gone?”

“No, and good riddance,” the master huffed. “But they disappeared a day or two before Dori resigned his post, I know that much. At first, I kept an eye out, you know? A bit worried that they were planning something big -- destroying my merchandise, attacking my apprentices, something like that. But no, they really did disappear.” He snorted, shooting the boys a look. “I think they’ve got something more important to worry about than trying to scare one dwarf who could break them like twigs.”

Before Ori could ask about any more details, there was a sudden crash in the backroom, causing the master to swear profusely before running into the back, shouting threats as he went.

The three of them traded a look. “Something more important to worry about?” Kili asked slowly.

Fili frowned. “Maybe we should keep _our_ ears open.”

***

Ori hadn’t expected for keeping his ears open to be so… enlightening. At least, not so quickly.

“He’s got Kollr on the ropes, he does.”

There was yet another group of trainees at the Central Meatgrinder. Unlike the newer recruits whose faces Ori had vaguely recognized from previous visits, these were dwarves who had lost some of their nervous energy, and were joking around and taking swipes at each other in the spirit of friendly competition rather than the thick tension and brittle friendships Ori saw with the younger recruits. Ori was guessing these dwarves had already passed their first exams, having seen more than half of their initial class sent home, and were settling into the routines that came with training. 

The dwarf who'd spoken was much older than Ori had expected, their beard sporting silver through their braids. It was possible they were an instructor, but Ori had a feeling they weren’t.

The dwarf they sparred with -- closer to Ori’s age, with a full blond beard and hefting a practice axe easily with one hand -- grunted before taking a half-hearted swing. “You sound pretty sure of that. Got an in there I should know about?”

The first snorted back. “A cousin of mine’s been watching Kollr’s biggest supplier for the past month. Someone’s going after him, and hard.”

“Just another young idiot, trying to show how stupid he is by going after a big name is all,” the second dwarf sneered. “He’ll find out fast why you don’t go after the ones everybody knows.”

“I’d love to see you go tell that dwarf,” the first said with a light laugh, aiming a swipe at the second dwarf’s legs. “He’s not just going after Kollr. He’s doing it _smart_. Going after his suppliers. His business partners. The ones who’re too scared to fight back.”

The second dwarf stopped, looking surprised by his sparring partner’s theories, which was just enough of an opening for the first to clip his shoulder with a good clout. “Hey!”

“Pay attention,” the first one said with another laugh. “Whoever the dwarf is, Mahal’s blessings to him.”

“Let’s hope that he doesn’t make things worse,” the second one groused. “We’re the ones who have to clear up the bodies if Kollr strikes back.”

“Spoken like a true member of the Watch!”

As the two dwarves started laughing, Ori headed back to Balin’s office, his thoughts buzzing.

***

“That sounds serious,” Fili said, frowning as the three of them walked down a thoroughfare. Ori’s arms were laden with books that he was returning to the library for his master, though he counted it as something of a victory that both Fili and Kili were carrying books too.

“It is,” Ori grunted, shifting the stack in his arms. “And I want to help.”

Kili’s face lit up in a big grin over his stack of books. “That’s a great idea! We’ve already gone after him before -- we could do it again, no problem.”

Fili shot his brother such a fierce look that said if he weren’t carrying a stack of books of his own, he would’ve smacked Kili. “Not so loud, eh?”

“Oh, right,” Kili said quickly, keeping his voice down and glancing around the street they were walking. While there weren't many dwarves around, they weren't completely alone. “Sorry.”

Fili rolled his eyes before turning to Ori. “You know us -- we don’t mind helping -- but do you have a plan to go after him?”

Ori sighed heavily. “No. I just -- I don’t know. I want to help whoever’s going after him, but I didn’t hear very much about what’s happening.”

“Well, we could try finding those guards, right?” Kili suggested. “Maybe see if they want to grab a pint or something?”

“That would work if you didn’t turn green whenever we walk near a pub,” Fili pointed out.

“Hey, you don’t look so good either!” Kili protested, shifting the weight in his arms just enough to aim a half-hearted kick at his brother.

“If you’re going to fight each other, put the books down first!” Ori yelped. “Or else wait until _after_ we’ve taken them back to the library!”

“Sorry,” both of them mumbled. Kili righted himself, and scampered over to Ori’s left, putting Ori between him and Fili.

Ori gave a satisfied huff. “All right. Now, do either of _you_ have any ideas about how we can help whoever it is?”

The brothers screwed their faces together in near unison, clearly trying to think very hard. 

Ori looked at the two of them before sighing. “Here. Let’s just get to the library, and maybe they’ll have a quiet room where we can talk without getting interrupted.”

“Great idea!” Kili perked up.

***

The room that one of the library apprentices showed them to was small and bare, with four chairs and a table just big enough for them to fit around without bumping elbows.

Kili flopped into one of them immediately, groaning as loudly as he could get away with. “Why doesn’t your master just read the books here at the library instead of dragging them all over Ered Luin?”

Ori snorted, taking a seat opposite him. “Because he’s a master, and I’m sure it’s to make sure I don’t stay cooped up in his office until I become a journeyman.”

Fili sat down to Ori’s right, eying him curiously. “You don’t have to stay in there all day, you know.”

“And I don’t,” Ori said primly. “I go out to the Central Meatgrinder to watch you train, don’t I?”

“But we don’t do anything else,” Fili pointed out, his tone gentler than usual.

Ori could tell what Fili was hinting at, and all he could do was shake his head. “Fili… I know.” At Fili’s skeptical look, he glared at him. “I do, really. I just… I don’t want to right now, is all. I’m fine with bringing things to the library, but I just want to get used to things first, all right?”

Fili nodded, though his expression said louder than words that they’d end up talking about this later on, though whether it would be days or weeks later, Ori wasn’t sure.

“Are we going to get to thinking about this dwarf, or what?” Kili demanded. “Whoever he is, he sounds really great, if he’s going after Kollr Longshanks.”

“Could be a she,” Fili pointed out. “We’ve got a few dwarrowdams in the Watch who I wouldn’t cross.”

Kili shrugged. “He, she, whoever they are, they’re doing us a world of good.” He turned to Ori. “So, what can we do?”

Ori shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “I know I _want_ to do something to help, but I don’t know what.” He turned to Fili. “Do you have any ideas?”

Fili snorted. “Couldn’t think of anything on the way here,” he admitted. “We’d have to know who the dwarf is, or something more about Kollr Longshanks than we already do. You said that the dwarves at the training ground knew something?”

Ori shrugged. “Just that the dwarf was going after people that Kollr worked with, or were scared into working for him.”

Fili frowned. “Well, we could try going about it that way.” At Ori’s confused look, he added, “One of the things one of our masters taught us is that if you’re hunting, and you can’t find what you’re looking for -- like a rabbit, or something -- try thinking of what sort of things it eats, and find that.”

“Yeah!” Kili nodded enthusiastically. “Because prey has to eat sometime too, right?”

“So, you’re saying that if we find the people that Kollr has scared into working for him, we’ll find him sooner or later?” Ori asked. “It might be easier to figure out who he _hasn’t_ scared and work from there.”

“But if he hasn’t scared them, there’s got to be a reason why he hasn’t managed it,” Fili pointed out. “And I don’t think that he would’ve gotten to be such a big name if he kept going after people that he can’t get to work for him. I mean, look at Dori.”

Ori frowned. “What about him?”

“Kollr tried to scare him once, right?” Fili asked. “Beat him up or something like that?”

Ori nodded, more surprised by who was asking the question than by the question itself. “How do you know about that?”

Kili snorted. “Dori’s some kind of living legend, the way the Watch recruits tell it. They say he’s some kind of monster who can make Kollr’s thugs wet themselves when he so much as looks at them.”

Ori blinked. “But, how would _they_ know about it?”

“The Watch members,” Fili answered with a shrug. “I guess they like riling up the recruits with the kind of things they see on a regular basis.” He shot Ori a curious look. “Is it true that Dori can crush a dwarf’s head between his hands?”

“His hands?” Kili piped up, looking confused. “I thought it was between his thighs-- ow!”

Fili shifted in his seat, looking as though he hadn’t just reached out and smacked Kili on the side of the head. “Don’t mind Kili. He’s just getting the rumor wrong.”

Ori looked between the two and shook his head slowly, feeling more confused than ever. “I’ve… never asked just how strong Dori is?” he offered hesitantly. “He’s just Dori.”

Fili nodded. “Well, after Kollr went after him, he’s never had anymore trouble, has he?”

The gang of thugs surrounding Dori flashed into his mind, followed by the image of Dwalin standing in the doorway of his house, roaring and swinging one of his axes. “Just the once.”

Both brothers sat up in their chairs like a pair of wolfhounds.

“The once?” Fili asked, frowning and sounding worried.

Ori nodded, and then quickly described what had happened, starting with Nidi finding him and ending with him and Dori being looked over by Master Oin. He conveniently left out the part where Dwalin was the guard who’d helped save them. Even _he_ wasn’t sure how to talk about Dwalin without needing to explain why Dwalin, of all dwarves, was there to help them.

Fili and Kili listened intently, their expressions getting darker and darker until Ori finished. Then they traded a look.

Ori frowned at them in return. “What’re you two thinking of?”

“We should find Kollr himself,” Kili said darkly. “Take the fight to the commander instead of just dealing with his troops.”

“What my brother’s trying to say is that that’s twice that Kollr’s gone after you,” Fili said, turning to Ori. “We’re not going to sit by and let it happen a third time.”

Ori groaned, feeling the waves of over-protectiveness almost like a blanket against his skin. “I’m not going after Kollr Longshanks by myself. I’m not that stupid.”

Fili and Kili gave him a look that said just how little they believed him.

“No, really, I’m not!” Ori objected. He knew that he wasn’t helping to change Fili and Kili’s minds, but he couldn’t help the outburst. “What am I supposed to manage by myself against him?”

He saw Fili’s and Kili’s expressions twist into surprise, but Ori barrelled on. “I want to _hurt_ him for what happened--” He had to clench his teeth together suddenly, because a wave of nausea, anger, and fear swept over him all at once. For a split second, he found himself back _there_ , chained and covered in icicles. In another second, he was in the front room of his home, feeling the warm spray of blood against his face as Dwalin’s axe swung and killed a dwarf not five feet from him.

When he surfaced from the memories, Fili and Kili were braced on either side of him, their arms wrapped around him like steel bands, and murmuring sounds that might have been words in his ears, if he had the wherewithal to try to decipher them.

Ori took a deep breath, and sighed slowly.

“All right?” Fili asked gruffly, pulling back just enough to look Ori in the eye.

Ori met his gaze, and shook his head.

He felt a hand stroke up and down his back in smooth, even strokes. “I’m sorry,” Fili murmured.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ori murmured back.

“We know,” Kili said, his voice slightly muffled by his face buried in Ori’s shoulder. “But we’re still sorry.”

Ori couldn’t help a small smile. He reached up and tapped the arms around his chest gently, remembering the move from when he’d seen recruits learning how to wrestle. Fili and Kili released him, but kept watching him carefully.

“I’m all right,” Ori murmured. “Thanks.”

Both brothers sat back down before Fili said, “So, we’re back to the drafting board.”

Ori sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. “I still want to help whoever is going after Kollr Longshanks.”

Kili frowned intensely, his eyes watching Fili and Ori before he said, “Ori? I know you want to help, but maybe we shouldn’t?”

Ori blinked, startled enough by what Kili said, let alone because it was _Kili_ who said it. “What?"

Kili sat up straighter, and looked almost apologetic when he continued, “Well, we don’t know anything about this dwarf, right? What if he wants to replace Kollr, instead of just getting rid of him? Or, what if he really _wants_ to get rid of Kollr, but if we stick our noses in it, we just mess it up?”

Without any opposition Kili barrelled on. “And we’ve never done anything like this. Not on our own. And what if somebody gets hurt?”

Ori was positive that he and Fili were staring at Kili as though he’d grown a second head, but all Kili did under the scrutiny was to look down at the table and pick at a scratch on its surface before mumbling, “Somebody who’s not them, I mean.”

Ori opened his mouth to object, but when he caught Fili’s gaze, he sighed. “All right, no trying to help. I just…” He gritted his teeth, remembering how helpless he felt.

A hand landed on his shoulder, followed by Fili’s unusually solemn gaze. “We know, Ori. But -- and Mahal help me for the words about to come out of my mouth -- Kili’s right.”

“Hey!” Kili yelped.

Fili shot him a look before he turned back to Ori. “You getting kidnapped was a few of the worst hours of my life.” Looking back at his brother, Fili said, his voice rough, “And if it were you, Kee--”

Kili scowled fiercely. “Don’t think about it. I mean it, _don’t_. If I’m not supposed to beat myself over getting sucker-punched, then you don’t get to imagine every horrible ‘what if’ imaginable.”

Fili scowled back just as fiercely, and Ori figured it was time to break it up before he had a sibling fight on his hands to rival the blow-ups Dori and Nori had when they were younger. “All right, you two, stop. You’ve both made your points, and I’m not going to try to help this dwarf, whoever they are, anymore. All right?”

Even as Ori said it out loud, he knew that he was lying through his teeth. Fili and Kili’s protectiveness made something warm uncurl in his chest -- and was somehow not as smothering as Dori’s -- but they had only seen the aftermath of what had happened to him. The cold, the blindness… reaching the point where he had been so tired of being in pain that he was ready for it to _end_ , then and there.

This dwarf, whoever they were, was doing something important. They weren’t just getting rid of a crime lord; they were chasing after the faceless evil that had threatened Ori’s family for so long. For a moment, he found himself thinking of Nori, wondering what life would’ve been like if Nori hadn’t fallen in with Kollr Longshanks. It was possible that Nori would’ve ended up working for some other criminal, but there might’ve been a chance, a slim one, that he would’ve stayed with them instead of leaving.

A dwarf who would get rid of even just _one_ nightmare was a dwarf worth helping.

Fortunately, it looked like Fili and Kili believed him, because they reluctantly turned away from glaring at each other to nod grumpily at Ori.

“Good,” Ori said with a firm nod, trying to channel Dori as best he could. He even clapped his hands firmly together to help him feel a bit more in control of the situation. He wasn’t sure if it helped, though. 

“So, we’re not going to help this dwarf?” Kili asked, eying Ori suspiciously.

Ori nodded, hoping that the lie wasn’t obvious. “We’re not going to help.” He paused for a moment and then added, “Not unless he shows up at our doorstep and needs food or a place to sleep. Then we could help with that.”

***

Getting back was much easier without the unwieldy stacks of books, and Kili’s running dialogue switched from complaints about how heavy books were to complaints that their impromptu strategy session didn’t leave them any time to go visit a sweet shop he’d heard about from one of their fellow trainees. Soon, they were nodding to the guards at the entrance to the residence of the Line of Durin, with the brothers making noises about seeing if there was anything to eat in the kitchens.

Ori waved to Fili and Kili as he separated from them, heading towards Balin’s office. When he opened the door, he found his master at his desk, a loupe up to his eye as he examined a contract at his desk.

Balin glanced up at him before nodding. “Ah, there you are. I assume Master Hamal was happy?”

Ori nodded, taking his seat at his desk. “All of the books you’d borrowed were accounted for, so yes. He said that if you want to borrow anymore from him, you’re to borrow them all at once so that they know everything that you’ve borrowed without having to hunt for four different borrowing ledgers, or come yourself so as to not run your apprentice ragged.”

Balin shot him an amused look. “Your marginalia isn’t as subtle as you think.”

Ori looked over at him with an artfully innocent look. “It made you smile, though, didn’t it?”

Balin snorted, still smiling as he returned to his contract. “Make sure to finish your assignment before dinner.”

Ori knew an order when he heard it, and turned back to his desk. “Yes, Master.”

It didn’t take long to get into a steady pace with his copying, the twists and curls of the Tengwar calligraphy coming easier and easier as Ori continued the exercise. When he was halfway through the third copied page, his mind had started to drift back to the failed strategy meeting he’d had before with Fili and Kili. Since then, Ori hadn’t been able to think of a way to help the nameless dwarf who appeared determined to take down Kollr’s criminal activities single-handedly. Although not for any lack of trying. But, maybe Kili, of all people, had truly had the right of it; sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong could only--

Ori froze.

Someone else had told him that, and not that long ago, either.

 _“If you have any sense at all, you’re to keep your nose out of it.”_ Dwalin had growled at him.

Ori gritted his teeth, and didn’t realize that he’d crushed the quill in his hand until Balin cleared his throat very pointedly at him.

Ori looked up from the mangled mess of ink and feather in his hand to look at his master, trying not to look embarrassed and failing miserably. “Sorry, Master.”

Balin shot him a sympathetic look. “Another soulspeaking?”

Ori latched onto the assumption with both hands and a great deal of relief. “Sorry, Master,” he mumbled, feeling his stomach twist at the lie. Still, it was easier to lie and say he needed to recopy the page then to explain what had happened that required him to crush a quill to uselessness. As Ori turned back to the page, he noticed that he was going to have to recopy the page anyway, what with the large blob of ink already settling into the paper right in the middle of the empty space he’d had left to fill.

Balin sighed gently before he waved Ori away. “Take the rest of the night, if you need to, lad.”

Ori blinked, but wasn’t about to look a gift pony in the mouth. He grabbed the offending page, trying not to crumple it in his hands as he did so. As he was tucking in his chair, Balin cleared his throat again.

“I know it might not look like it now, lad,” Balin said gently, “but it’ll get better with time.”

Ori thought back to Dwalin’s sneering voice, the mocking smile in his words, how he’d said that pretending to be stupid wasn’t winning him any favors. “I hope you’re right, Master,” Ori grumbled. “Good night.”

Balin sighed again, and nodded. “Good night. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, right?”

“Right.” With that, Ori left the room.

***

Ori wasn’t sure why he was sitting in his room with Fili and Kili lounging on his bed three hours later.

He _definitely_ wasn’t sure how the three of them had a bottle of mead that Kili claimed that they’d “liberated” from some “dark, unhappy home” where it had been left to languish “alone and unloved.”

All Ori knew was that ever since he’d washed the ink from his fingers and had thrown away what had once been a perfectly good quill, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Dwalin, which was making him angrier the longer it went on.

“Are you all right?” Fili asked, frowning.

Ori shook his head, trying not to glare at either of them. Dwalin had told him that he was going to be involved in something dangerous, and that Ori would be able to tell what it was. He just hadn’t expected something like _this_. “I’m fine.”

Fili’s frown deepened. “No, you’re not. Look, if it’s about us keeping away from whatever that dwarf is doing--”

 _Dwalin_ , Ori’s mind filled in the name bitterly. _My soulmate who didn’t bother to tell me what he was going to do, just to stay away from it._ “No, it’s not that,” he grumbled.

Kili turned to Ori quickly, looking tipsy and startled. “But, I thought it was a good idea! You said it was better if we didn’t!”

“I know what I said,” Ori said firmly, gritting his teeth and trying not to blurt out that he’d been lying to them so they wouldn’t try to sit on him or something. As much not helping had been a good idea -- and it _was_ a good idea -- the nerve of it all galled Ori to no end, because Dwalin had warned him to not interfere in the first place. His own soulmate had ordered him to do it in the most insulting way possible.

“Are you changing your mind?” Fili asked slowly, watching him more steadily than Ori would’ve thought him capable, with how much Fili had drunk in the past hour.

Ori stared into his eyes for a long moment, before he sighed heavily. “No, I’m not. I’m just--”

“Just what?” Kili asked, scooting closer awkwardly until he was butting against Ori’s left side.

It felt like that one small question had opened the floodgates inside him. Maybe it was the combination of the drink, and Fili and Kili pestering him, but he felt like he couldn’t contain his anger and frustration anymore. “That _bastard_ warned me about this, and he didn’t think I deserved to know what was going on! And he just decides to do everything! On his own! Without bothering to worry or even think about how _anybody_ else feels!” 

Fili and Kili blinked and slowly turned away from Ori, sharing a wide-eyed look caught between confusion and distress.

“Um?” Kili tried weakly.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re talking about Kollr Longshanks…” Fili trailed off, as if he were about to step on something sharp if he didn’t choose his words carefully.

Ori stilled, suddenly remembering who he was talking to. “No,” he blurted out. “It’s not. Um-- I’m not.”

“Who’re you talking about?” Fili asked, just as carefully as before.

Ori thought quickly, trying not to say Dwalin’s name out loud, or that Dwalin was his soulmate. Unfortunately for him, he’d drunk just enough that he blurted out, “My soulmate?”

“Your _what?_ ” Fili and Kili squawked.

“Nope!” Ori squeaked. “No! I didn’t say anything! I don’t know what you’re talking abou-- gah!” 

Fili and Kili struck hard and fast, Fili going for his armpits with a big grin on his face, and Kili going for his bare feet, both of them tickling as vigorously as they could. If it weren’t for the fact that Ori was out of breath and pleading for it to stop within moments, he would’ve commended their technique.

“You can’t just tell us something like that, and then not share any details!” Fili said, laughing nearly as much as Ori was, and looking pleased with himself.

“Yeah,” Kili agreed loudly, trying to grab Ori’s flailing ankle in order to better tickle the sole of his left foot. “It’s against the code!”

“What code?” Ori demanded, squawking and trying to wriggle away from Fili, only to find himself playing right into Kili’s reach. He giggled helplessly, kicking at Kili’s hands before he tried to crawl away. 

“The friendship code, that’s what!” Fili countered with a triumphant grin. He managed to wriggle quick fingers into one of Ori’s armpits finally and soon, Ori was laughing so hard that he could feel his face getting red.

Finally, when he couldn’t breathe, he curled up into a ball and squeaked out something that he hoped sounded like ‘mercy’.

“Promise to tell us about this soulmate of yours, and we’ll stop,” Kili demanded.

Ori tried to shake his head, but he was still doubled over and wheezing.

“Ease up on him,” Fili said quickly. “I think he wants to give up.”

“It could be a trick,” Kili objected, his quick fingers against Ori’s foot sending Ori into new peels of laughter.

Fili shoved at him, and then turned back to Ori. “Give up?”

Ori could only manage a weak nod.

He couldn’t see Fili and Kili because he had started crying from laughing too much, but he was sure they were nodding firmly to each other. Two thumps on either side of him confirmed the suspicion, because he was boxed in, with Fili at his front, and Kili buttressed up against his back.

“All right, so spill,” Kili said, a little too close to his left ear. Ori flinched away for a moment, and found Fili’s arms rubbing his arms briskly.

“Now, now, Kili, we’re merciful victors. Gotta let him get his breath first,” Fili said, sounding very much like an elder brother. There was a long pause before he said to Ori, “All right, you. What’s this about a soulmate?”

Ori shook his head, sagging against the bed, and finding himself suddenly remembering all of the times he and Fili and Kili had flopped onto this same bed when he was still blind, how easy it felt, how comforting. He knew that he couldn’t just tell them outright who his soulmate was -- he didn’t know just how loyal they were to Dwalin, and it wouldn’t have been fair to them to make them choose sides in… whatever this was.

Ori told himself firmly that there was nothing _to_ tell, really. Dwalin had made his stupid, boneheaded, stubborn choice, and Ori had made his own decision to stop worrying or trying to salvage something that had been a bad situation from the start. When he opened his eyes, and found Fili’s blue eyes staring at him from not too far away, Ori sighed. As much as he didn’t want to talk about it, he had already taken the tools out of the forge. All he could really do at this point was try to make the best of it.

“I have a soulmate,” Ori said slowly, not really sure how to start.

Fili rolled his eyes. “We know that already. You just told us.”

Ori scowled at him grumpily. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Fili’s sorry that he’s impatient,” Kili said breezily. Ori felt an arm wrap around his side and give a friendly squeeze.

Fili shot an annoyed look over Ori’s shoulder before adding, “Go on, Ori.”

“Well,” Ori sighed, still unsure of how exactly to start. “He’s a big, stubborn jerk,” he said all in a rush. He sat up and turned a little, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. “He’s older than me, and every time he looks at me, he looks like I’m something horrible stuck to the bottom of his boot.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Kili said, sitting up as well and leaning against Ori’s left. “He wouldn’t do that if he knew what you were like.”

Ori shook his head. “He doesn’t even want to talk to me. Every time he has, he’s always sneering or treating me like a dwarfling.”

Fili sat up, frowning darkly at Ori’s profile. “Who is he?”

Ori glanced over at him, not wanting to meet Fili’s gaze for too long. “I… don’t know his name.” The lie felt awkward on his lips, but he hoped they’d believe him.

“What?” Kili demanded, pulling away from Ori’s side to stare at him incredulously. “How could you not know his name if you’ve talked to him?”

Ori felt himself start blushing, not looking over at Kili either. “He never told it to me.” Which was true, because Dwalin had never formally introduced himself. He just snapped at him, and talked to everyone else in the room _but_ him, and hid behind helmets and his soulmate’s blindness to avoid having to look him in the eye.

“Then how do you know it’s him?” Kili asked, sounding even more confused.

“My soulcraft is drawing. I know it’s him,” Ori said, still annoyed more at Dwalin for the situation he’d been put in than Kili for asking the obvious question. He turned away from Kili, hugging his legs tighter. “I don’t think there’s another dwarf that looks like him.”

“Has he said that you’re his soulmate, though?” Fili asked carefully. “Maybe he’s got a brother who looks just like him. We’ve met a pair of sisters like that in the Watch.”

“That’s right!” Kili said, sounding excited. “They’re Ered Luin natives. Kharis and-- wait, what’s that other one’s name?”

Fili shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Ori’s got a soulmate who’s a jerk to him.” Ori could feel Fili turning his attention back on him with a steady, persistent look that could batter metal into shape. “Which doesn’t make any sense. Uncle always says that a soulmate is supposed to be your other half. That they complement you. They’re strong where you’re weak. That kind of thing.”

“What if Ori’s so nice that his soulmate can’t help but be a bastard?” Kili asked.

Fili scowled so fiercely that Ori almost apologized reflexively. “You’re not helping.”

While Kili mumbled an apology, Ori sighed. “Look, thanks for trying to cheer me up, but whatever’s going to happen between us is between me and him. I’ve been doing some research. Not all soulmates end up together like they do in the romances.”

Fili frowned, not looking convinced. “Ori, you’re our friend. You shouldn’t have to have a soulmate who doesn’t like you, or respect you. He shouldn’t just toss you aside like a load of slag.”

“Yeah, Fili’s right,” Kili said firmly. “You’re a great friend. You’re patient, you listen, you nag at us when we’re drinking too much--” When Fili glared at him, he continued quickly, “--but that just means you care. And if he doesn’t think you’re worth getting to know, then you don’t need him.”

Ori blinked at Kili. “Did something happen to you?”

Kili blinked back, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or offended. “No. Why?”

“He’s trying to say that you’ve been smart today, and that’s really odd,” Fili answered.

“Hey, I can be smart!” Kili protested.

“Yeah, maybe once a year,” Fili said with a challenging grin.

“I’ll show you ‘once a year’!” Kili yelled.

Ori had just enough time to roll out of the way before Fili and Kili started wrestling on his bed. Part of him hoped that they were so busy fighting that they would forget what they were asking him about, but deep down, another part of him felt glad to have someone to talk to that wasn’t Dori or Master Balin. Both of them meant well, of course, but it was different with Fili and Kili. They were his friends, and even when they were goofing around, they could understand how he felt better, somehow.

Ori still found himself debating whether or not he could sneak out of his room when Fili and Kili finally stopped, with Fili sitting on his brother’s chest and grinning triumphantly down at him. “There! Now that we’ve established who’s the stronger of us, we can get back to Ori.” When Fili looked over his shoulder at Ori, Kili chose that moment to strike back.

Ori checked a sigh. “I’ll just go get us something to eat from the kitchens, shall I?” he asked, not expecting a response.

When both brothers righted themselves, he blinked at them.

“And let you get out of telling us about this slag of a soulmate?” Kili said, hopping off the bed. “Not a chance!”

Fili hopped off the bed as well, giving Ori a long, steady look. “You all right there? If you need us to leave off, we can…”

Ori sighed. “There’s nothing left to tell. My soulmate is rude, and stubborn. He knew about this dwarf that’s going after Kollr Longshanks, and told me to stay out of it without telling me what was going to happen.”

When Fili opened his mouth to say something, Ori shook his head. “Fili, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I want to have fun with my friends, continue with my apprenticeship and seeing Dori, and not have to think about him anymore. He made his choice. And I made mine. I just…”

“Just what?” Kili asked softly when Ori’s voice trailed off.

“I’ve been trying not to think about him since he left, and I thought I was doing well enough, but now that he’s come up again, it feels like I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Kili frowned, looking unexpectedly fierce as he stayed silent before he offered, “What if you talk about him a lot?”

Ori and Fili blinked at him. “Talking about him just means that I’d still be thinking about him, and that’s not what I want,” Ori pointed out.

“Well, think of it like training,” Kili said, still frowning. “If you’re hitting practice dummies all the time, then your arm starts getting sore, right?”

Ori nodded slowly. “I guess so…?”

Kili looked annoyed for a moment. “It does, until you get used to it. And then your sword arm’s stronger. And you can keep hitting practice dummies, or you can try using a bow and arrows.” He suddenly brightened, as though he hit a significant point in his argument, though what it was, Ori had no idea. “And then you can just shoot arrows all day instead of just hitting dummies over and over again.”

Ori stared at Kili for a long moment before he turned to Fili. “What did he just say?”

Fili frowned at Kili, as though staring at his younger brother would translate all the talk about practice dummies and shooting arrows into something that made sense. It must have worked, because Fili’s confused frown disappeared. “If you talk out all of the stuff about your soulmate, then you can get it all off your chest, and then you can use the stuff you learned when you were thinking about what to do about him to do something that’s a lot more fun.”

Kili looked like a crestfallen puppy. “But I just said that!”

“I’m not sure I understand that any better,” Ori said apologetically.

Fili frowned, and said, “Well, what about this? You copy pages of stuff as part of your apprenticeship, right?”

Ori nodded, relieved to get back onto more solid ground. “Of course.”

“Well, let’s say that you didn’t like it that much, but it’s necessary,” Fili suggested. He paused before he quickly added, “We know you actually like that stuff, so we’re just pretending for the example, all right?”

“I’m familiar with hypothetical situations, Fili,” Ori said firmly.

Fili nodded. “All right, so you don’t like copying pages, but you keep working and working until your master says you don’t have to anymore. But now that you’ve been copying pages so long, you can write really quickly. And instead of copying pages, you can do whatever it is you think is fun about writing, and do that instead.”

Ori found himself remembering the yellowed page from the beginning of his apprenticeship, and remembering how he’d noticed how much quicker he could write certain words as he worked. “All right,” he said slowly. “I understand that bit, but what does that have to do with my soulmate?”

Fili shrugged. “If you can figure out how to get over your soulmate, you can use that to deal with other things…?” As he spoke, he got more and more confused until he was looking at Kili skeptically. “Wait, that doesn’t help him now.”

Kili scowled at his older brother. “Because that’s not what I was _saying_ ,” he said firmly, turning to Ori. “If you can’t stop thinking about your soulmate, then let yourself think about him _all_ the time. And pretty soon, you can think about him and then _stop_ thinking about him, because you’ll have already thought about him so much.”

Ori frowned. “You think my brain is going to get sick of thinking about him?”

Kili nodded firmly, radiating pleasure at his own brilliance. “Mine does all the time.” He realized what he said, and then added, “Not about your soulmate. Just about… things.”

Ori could tell another argument-turned-wrestling match was about to start, but as Fili made a comment and Kili pounced, Ori found himself thinking it over. As much as he hated thinking about Dwalin, and what a hopeless situation it was, part of him wondered if Kili had a point. Each time he’d thought about Dwalin, he’d gotten angry with himself for dwelling on something that he couldn’t change or fix, and as a result, he would be in a foul mood until something came along to bring him out of it. If he deliberately forced himself to think about Dwalin, maybe he could direct all of his anger at its target instead of on everyone around him.

 _Or,_ Ori thought suddenly, _what if it’s like soulspeaking?_ At first, soulspeaking had been something that always happened _to_ him, without him knowing when it would strike. But Master Balin had told him that he could control it by deliberately focusing on it, thinking about it, and trying to make it happen. If he could do the same with just _thinking_ about Dwalin--

Ori grinned suddenly, and turned to Fili and Kili, who were still wrestling on his bed, with Kili hanging halfway off one side, and Fili about to sit on his chest.

There were times when Ori wondered how on Arda these two could be so helpful, and such silly buggers at the same time.

“You two are brilliant,” Ori declared.

“We are?” Fili and Kili asked in unison.

And then Kili fell off the bed.

***

Ori was a little surprised to see Patience waiting for him alone the next morning. It wasn’t all that unusual for his master to be called away to handle some legal matters, but Balin usually gave him some warning the night before so that Ori wouldn’t end up bringing the tea tray from the kitchens to an empty office, like he had just done.

Underneath the orc skull were a few pieces of paper, with a smaller piece tucked away into one of the eyesockets.

_Ori,_

_My apologies for not giving you advance warning, but something’s just come up that requires my attention. I shouldn’t be long. While you’re waiting for my return, see to copying over the following pages into Simplified and Ornate Cirth. After that, if you have a chapter of the book we’ve been discussing ready to read over, we can negotiate your schedule for the rest of the day._

_-B_

Ori rolled his eyes with a snort. The book he and his master had been “discussing” continued to be as unappealing as the first time Fili had dropped it in Master Balin’s office, all those weeks ago. And while he hadn’t been able to convince his master to refer to it in some other vague terms, Ori reminded himself that Master Balin was technically his paying customer, and if there was one thing that Ori had learned from watching Dori at the tailor shop, it was that customers would call the merchandise whatever they wanted, and his job was to shut up and finish it.

Deliberately not thinking about how Bruni and Rhis’s love lives were miles better than his own, Ori picked up the pages to copy over from beneath Patience’s teeth and idly flipped through them. There weren’t all that many pages to copy over, if Ori was being honest -- it was going to be tedious because Ornate Cirth had flourishes in directions that Ori wasn’t used to making, but it was still only going to take a few hours at the most. If he skipped all of the annoying breaks that Master Balin forced him to take ever since he’d returned to work, Ori was fairly sure he’d finish the stack by midday, if not sooner.

 _So,_ Ori thought to himself as he poured himself a cup of tea and nibbled on a ginger cookie, _Either he really wants that new chapter, or he really thinks that I’m going to take all of those silly breaks._

With a snort, Ori sat the cup and saucer down on the corner of his desk, finished the cookie, and then sat himself down in his chair, and began copying.

He’d had a fairly good rhythm going when the door opened, but since Balin never usually announced himself when he came in, Ori didn’t bother to look up from his work.

“What’re you doing here, then?”

Ori blinked, looking over his shoulder at Fili and Kili, who were shooting him identical looks of fond exasperation.

“I could ask the same of you two,” Ori said after he recovered from his surprise. He capped his ink bottle and set his quill aside before turning in his seat to look at the pair more directly. “Don’t you have some training to do?”

“Can’t train if nobody’s around,” Kili shrugged.

Ori snorted. “So you keep saying.” He looked at Fili curiously. “Why did you think I wasn’t going to be here?”

“Uncle got called away from breakfast by one of the Watch,” Fili replied. “If something’s that important that Thorin has to be involved, we thought that Balin would be with him.”

At Ori’s confused look, Kili added, “And if Balin’s going to be busy with Uncle, then you’d be free to do whatever.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “Just because Master Balin isn’t here to oversee my work doesn’t mean I don’t have any.” He held up one of the sheets he’d been copying as proof.

Fili and Kili looked horrified before Fili recovered.

“But your master’s definitely not here, right?” he pressed.

Ori frowned at him. “Yes, he’s definitely not here,” he answered firmly. “Why, is it so unusual that my master isn’t here?” Remembering who he was talking to, he narrowed his eyes at them. “What’ve you heard?”

Fili scowled. “Not much. None of the guards are saying anything.”

“Not in your hearing, anyway,” Kili said, looking for all the world like he had a secret, and he was deliberately talking about it in front of others just so that they’d get jealous.

Both Ori and Fili turned on him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Fili demanded.

“Oh, just a little something that I overheard, is all.” Kili smirked.

Just as Fili opened his mouth, about to demand details (if Ori was right), the door opened.

Ori turned to look past Fili and Kili, ready to welcome his master back from whatever business had kept him, but blinked when he saw Dori bustle in with the air of a dwarf who had finally found what -- or, more importantly, _whom_ \-- he was looking for.

“Ori, there you are,” Dori gasped before Ori was engulfed in a hug that was just a little too strong. While Ori had been used to his oldest brother worrying over him when his sight finally returned, this felt different somehow.

“Hello, Dori,” he said, his voice muffled by Dori’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what I did wrong this time, but I’m fine, and I didn’t get into any trouble.” He waved vaguely in Fili and Kili’s direction. “They can vouch for me that I’ve been here all morning.”

“What?” Dori pushed him away far enough to look him over and start fussing with the braid dangling near his left cheek. “Of course you’re not in--” Hazel eyes narrowed at him at close range. “What did you do?”

Ori barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, Dori,” he replied with what he thought was a remarkable amount of patience, “But you don’t usually barge in here like that unless I did something I wasn’t supposed to.”

Dori huffed, unraveling the braid with quick, practiced movements. “Can’t I be worried about my little brother’s health?”

Ori shot him a look that said just how little he believed him. “Does that mean that something happened, and you were worried I’d gotten kidnapped again?”

“Don’t you _dare_ joke about that,” Dori growled before engulfing him in another wool-flavored hug.

“Sorry,” Ori mumbled into Dori’s shoulder again.

“I bet it’s about that body,” Kili said, that air of smug secrecy reminding Ori about whatever secret might be related to his master’s absence.

“Body?” Fili demanded. “What body?”

Ori found himself suddenly released, watching as Dori wheeled on Kili. “How do you know about that?”

Kili’s eyes widened, and he very nearly backpedaled away from Dori. Ori couldn’t blame him -- he’d been on the receiving end of that tone more times than he liked to remember. “Around! I just heard it around!”

“No one’s supposed to know about that!” Dori snapped. “It’s still under investigation!”

“What’s still under investigation?” Ori asked weakly, hoping that the question would go unnoticed long enough for Dori to explain while he was distracted by interrogating Kili. It was a cruel thing to do to Kili, but Ori reasoned that he’d brought it on himself by mentioning a body in Dori’s hearing. Ori guessed that whoever’s body had been discovered, it was important enough that his master and Thorin Oakenshield had been called in about it.

Unfortunately, Ori’s seemingly innocent question didn’t work. Dori turned on him, eyes flashing, and shoved a very irate finger in his face. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Ori, and I’ll not have it. I’m not to give any details about an ongoing investigation, and that’s that. I swore to your master that I wouldn’t tell you about this, and I’m a dwarf of my word.”

The fact that Master Balin was involved hadn’t been surprising, but the fact that he’d spoken with Dori had. “You spoke to him?”

“Yes, I did,” Dori said primly. “And no, I’m not going to tell you why.”

“Then why are you here, then?” Fili asked, finally recovered enough from Dori’s sudden appearance to say something.

Dori turned to Fili, and then seemed to remember himself. “Not that it’s any of your business, but after what’s happened this morning, I wanted to see for myself that Ori was safe and well.”

Ori traded looks with Fili and Kili before turning back to his brother. The only reason he could think of for Master Balin to be involved with something that would have Dori worried about him was…

“Did Kollr Longshanks do something?” he asked, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Dori turned back to him, stroking his undone braid behind his ear, and then holding his shoulders, gently but firmly. “No, he…” His voice trailed off, and soon, he was staring at Ori with an unusual intensity.

Ori wasn’t sure _how_ he knew, but he said, “Dori, I know you want to protect me, but you promised you wouldn’t keep me in the dark anymore.”

Dori blinked once, hazel eyes sharpening their focus on him before the larger dwarf sighed heavily. “You really are too smart for your own good,” he grumbled. “You’re like Nori that way.”

Ori couldn’t help a small smile. Dori might’ve been complaining, but Ori took it as a compliment. “Tell me?” he asked gently.

Dori sighed again, and said, “I’m only telling you because you’ll find out sooner or later.”

Ori could practically hear Fili and Kili holding their breaths.

“Kollr Longshanks is dead.”


	25. Laying the Road Brick by Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey of a thousand miles begins with a footstep.

_“Kollr Longshanks is dead.”_

For a second, Ori stared at his older brother uncomprehendingly. The words had become so many sounds, consonants and vowels crashing into each other like puzzle pieces forced together that wouldn’t fit.

Dori frowned, his hands squeezing Ori’s shoulders firmly. “Ori? Are you all right?”

Ori shook his head to clear it, and then the full meaning of what Dori had said hit him. Kollr Longshanks, dead. It felt like Dori had announced that he’d personally dragged the monster out from under the bed screaming into sunlight. Or maybe like Dori had wrapped an impossibly warm blanket around him and given him a cup of tea after having been cold for so long.

Whatever it was, it didn’t feel real.

“Ori?” Fili and Kili edged closer, peering at him around Dori’s broad shoulders, their eyes blue and brown and worried.

“How--” Ori managed to get out before he discovered he didn’t know which question to ask. How did Dori know? How did anyone know that it was Kollr Longshanks, and not some other monster that went bump in the night? How did he die? How, how, how?

“Never you mind about how,” Dori said firmly. “He’s dead, and that’s all there is to that.”

Ori scowled at him. Dori returned it in spades.

“But how do you know it’s him?” Ori asked, feeling like he was being remarkably patient when the questions were still buzzing through his head, trying to get out.

“There are enough guards on the Watch who can identify him,” Dori said stiffly. “They could tell it was him.”

Ori couldn’t help a groan. It was just like Dori to tell him and keep more information from him at the same time. “Dori--”

Dori shook his head firmly. “I’ve told you exactly what you need to know, and even that was too much.”

“Then why are you here?” Ori demanded peevishly.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Dori warned, his hazel eyes hardening. “After hearing about that criminal finally getting what was coming to him, you can’t blame me for wanting to see for myself that you were all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” Ori asked, baffled enough to deflate his annoyance. “It’s too early in the morning for me to have _gone_ anywhere. They can vouch for me, too.” Ori pointed at Fili and Kili, who nodded assent.

Dori, however, looked unimpressed. “Considering how much trouble the three of you can get into unsupervised, you’ll forgive me if I’m not reassured by such a ringing endorsement.”

Ori found himself suddenly remembering Dwalin accusing him of much the same thing. His face reddening, and his temper rising, he snapped, “I’m going to tell you what I told--”

At that moment, he remembered that Fili and Kili were in the room, staring at him with no small amount of confusion. Gritting his teeth, Ori shook his head once, hard. “Never mind.”

Dori’s eyes narrowed at him. “Who exactly?”

“I don’t want to discuss it,” Ori said firmly.

“Ori--”

Ori shook his head, turning his attention to Fili and Kili. “Don’t you two have training to do?”

Fili snorted. “You know that we don’t.”

“Then you can leave because we’re about to get into an argument,” Dori said firmly. “Out, the pair of you.”

Kili frowned, but before he could say anything, Fili was grabbing his arm and shaking his head. “It’s fine, Kili. You wouldn’t want Ori watching when Uncle tans your hide, would you?” he asked quickly. Then he answered his own question, before Kili could even open his mouth to respond. “No, you wouldn’t. C’mon, then.”

They were about to leave the room when the door opened, and Balin entered, wearing an ornate, red robe that Ori recognized as one he wore when he attended court proceedings. He was in the act of dusting off the sleeves when he stopped and raised his eyebrows at everyone in the room.

“Hello, everyone,” he said, sounding as surprised as he looked. When everyone stared at him somewhat blankly, he cleared his throat and added, “Not that you’re not welcome, but why are all of you in my office?” He particularly raised an eyebrow at Fili and Kili.

“We were just leaving,” Fili said firmly, grabbing Kili’s arm and half-shoving him at the doorway. Kili squawked in protest until Fili added, “If Master Balin’s back, that must mean that Uncle’s back too. C’mon.”

The door closed after them, leaving Ori staring between Balin and Dori. “Good morning, Master,” Ori said, wanting to break the awkward silence he could feel growing in the room.

“I’ve not seen the weather outside of the mountain, but given what’s happened this morning, it’s difficult to say,” Balin said with a grunt. He removed the ornate robe from his shoulders and hung it from a hatstand that Ori had rarely seen him use. Balin dusted off his trousers and stroked his snowy beard carefully before he made his way over to his chair and sat. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Master Dori?”

Ori was a bit surprised to see his brother’s cheeks turn pink. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Master Balin. You know why I’m here.”

Balin nodded, looking unsurprised. “As you can see, Ori is well and unharmed, though I imagine quite confused.”

“Is it true that Kollr Longshanks is dead?” Ori blurted out, stepping back from his brother to stand in front of his master’s desk.

Balin’s eyebrows shot up, eying Dori with a surprised look. “Aye, lad,” he said, his gaze turning to Ori. “It’s true. He was found a few hours ago.”

“And that’s all you’re going to hear about it,” Dori said firmly. “You don’t need to know the particulars.”

For a moment, Balin looked faintly irritated, but then his expression returned to pleasant neutrality. “Indeed not. Now, was there anything else that I could help with you, Master Dori? Perhaps I should have Ori pack his bag so that he can visit with you?”

Dori’s earlier irritated glance turned into a hard stare. “Don’t you _dare_. He’s still not safe.”

“ _He_ is also right here in the room,” Ori grumbled pointedly, turning to Balin. “What’s going on? What am I being left out of this time?”

Balin opened his mouth to speak, but Dori moved to face Ori, reaching out and grabbing his brother’s shoulders. “Ori, it’s not _safe_. Just because that criminal is dead doesn’t mean that there isn’t going to be someone else trying to take his place. You could still be in danger--”

“Which means you could still be in danger too,” Ori protested. “Why can’t you live here? You’ve already left your position at the tailor shop--”

Dori’s hazel eyes flashed. “I don’t know how you know about that, but it’s not that simple. I haven’t been invited to stay, for one--”

Balin cleared his throat. Dori and Ori turned to look at him.

“That could easily be arranged,” Balin offered, raising his eyebrows at Dori. “I can’t imagine that it would be any trouble at all…”

Ori was startled to find Dori’s face turning a brilliant shade of red. “That’s not necessary,” he choked out. “I’m perfectly capable of living on my own and keeping out of trouble--”

“Kollr sent thugs to attack you while you were at home!” Ori snapped. “How are you anymore safe than I am?”

Dori turned back to Ori quickly, his embarrassment giving way to irritation again. “Of the two of us, I’m more than capable of handling anyone who thinks they can intimidate me.” 

“But--” Ori protested.

“No buts.” Dori shook his head. “You haven’t been trained to fight, not like your friends.”

“And whose fault was that?” Ori grumbled.

Dori drew himself up. “Nori and I had to learn how to fight the hard way, and I didn’t want that for you. It puts you at a disadvantage in this sort of situation now, but it meant that you didn’t have to worry so much about things when you were little.”

Ori gritted his teeth. “You can’t keep me a dwarfling forever.”

“No, I can’t,” Dori agreed evenly. “But I can do everything to keep you safe for as long as I can.” He turned to Balin. “And that means Ori stays guarded until we’re sure that no one else is going to attack either of us.”

Balin considered this for a moment, and then nodded. “Agreed.” 

“But, Master--” Ori began, turning to Balin.

Balin raised an eyebrow at him. “Your brother raises a very good point. We don’t know what will happen now that Kollr Longshanks is dead. We don’t know if you’ll still be targeted by whichever criminal rises up to take his place, if one even does. You’ll keep the guards you have for any errands outside of these halls, and continue your apprenticeship as usual.”

“So I’m going to be tripping over Fili and Kili for _years_?” Ori groaned. “And I’m supposed to never go anywhere unescorted for the rest of my life? Should I hold someone’s hand while I’m at the market as well?”

“No, but it’s best to be prudent, laddie,” Balin said mildly, as unruffled as ever. “Why don’t we try waiting a few weeks, hmmm? From what my brother told me, it took some time for Kollr Longshanks to realize that your brother had left Ered Luin entirely before he targeted the two of you.”

“Waiting a few weeks could mean that whoever is going to take over could be ready to strike by then,” Dori said. “I’m not going to let Ori risk himself just because no one’s attacked him yet.”

“How long do you want me to wait?” Ori demanded, his temper flaring. “Or do you not want me to see what our home looks like after those thugs trashed it? Or are you worried that I’m going to start worrying about you for a change? Because if that’s the case--”

Dori glared at him. “Firstly, I’ve had more than enough time to clean up our home, so you’re not likely to see any damage whatsoever. Secondly, I’m the elder brother here, Ori, not you. Worrying’s my job, not yours.”

“If you don’t mind a bit of advice, from one elder brother to another,” Balin cut in gently, “younger brothers are going to worry, whether we want them to or not.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dori muttered. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he caught Balin’s gaze. There was a long silence as Ori’s brother looked at his master, but then Dori sighed heavily, and shook his head. “I need to get back. I told Nidi to sweep the floors, and I shudder to think what he’s done since I’ve been gone.”

“Dori?” Ori said tentatively. When Dori looked at him, he said, “I love you. Please be careful.”

Dori snorted, a smile tugging at his lips with little resistance. “You too.” He nodded graciously to Balin, and then left, closing the door gently behind him.

Ori sighed heavily before turning to his master. “What happened this morning that Dori didn’t want to tell me about?”

Balin shot him a sly look. “Oh? What makes you think that I’ll tell you what your brother didn’t?”

The question might have been asked like an old joke between them, but Ori answered it without a smile. “You could’ve kept a lot of things from me since I became your apprentice, but you never have.”

The smile slipped from Balin’s expression. “Aye, that’s true.” He sighed heavily before leaning back in his chair. “Kollr Longshanks was found strung up by the neck in front of the Hall of Justice.”

Ori winced, his imagination trying to picture it. A faceless dwarf, his legs dangling above the ground. “That’s…”

“Not the worst of it,” Balin finished for him when Ori’s voice trailed off. “He showed evidence of being tortured. Nose broken, extensive bruising to the chest. Evidence of having been drenched in water from head to foot, and then frozen.”

Ori’s blood ran cold.

“There were a few other things that had been done to him, but those were the most pertinent details,” Balin said, not bothering with levity. “Whoever had his hands on him knew about what happened to you.”

Ori inhaled slowly, trying to will his stomach to calm down. He’d been right. He’d only had a few wild guesses up until this point -- Dwalin’s vagueness about his plans, the dwarf targeting Kollr’s accomplices, Kollr’s sudden death -- but now he knew that he’d been right.

Dwalin had killed the dwarf who’d ordered his kidnapping and torture.

The feeling of vindication made a vicious delight well up inside of him -- not only had the dwarf responsible for his torture gotten what he’d deserved, but Dwalin had tortured him in the same way Ori had suffered.

But... Ori could remember each punch he’d taken, each wave of ice water shocking the air out of his lungs, each scream he had bitten back.

As much as he hated to admit it, Ori wouldn’t have wished that on anyone.

The fact that it was Dwalin who’d done it made it seem worse somehow.

“Maybe Dori has a point about me not being able to defend myself,” Ori muttered.

Balin shook his head. “You’ve a kind soul, lad. It’s probably why you were matched with my brother like you were.”

Ori gritted his teeth, fighting down a shiver at the idea of Dwalin fighting his battles for him. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Balin frowned. “Who?”

Ori swallowed with some difficulty. “Mister Dwalin. Or, well, I should call him Captain Dwalin, shouldn’t I?”

“What are you talking about, lad?” Even as Balin asked, Ori could tell that he wasn’t as surprised by Ori’s question as he probably should’ve been. If anything, he looked like he was watching a play that he already knew the ending of.

“Captain Dwalin-- he came to see me before my sight returned,” Ori admitted, his gaze sinking to stare at the corner of Balin’s desk. “He said something was going to happen and that no matter what, I was to stay out of it. He wouldn’t explain what he was talking about, but it sounded important.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be something like this.”

Ori looked up just in time to see Balin rubbing his face with his hands.

“Of course he would,” Balin grumbled, more to himself than to Ori. When he lifted his face from his hands, he wore a wry smile. “He didn’t happen to say anything else, did he?”

Ori frowned. “He told me to stop playing dumb when I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I’m guessing that’s not what you were asking about.”

Balin sighed. “No, indeed not.”

Ori scowled, trying to think of anything else Dwalin might’ve told him, but no, his soulmate had been irritatingly vague when they’d spoken last. Then again, the things he’d learned about him as Kollr’s ‘faceless assassin’ had been more enlightening. “I heard one of the recruits at the Meatgrinder talking about whoever was going after Kollr.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? I thought it was information the Watch would have wanted to keep known only to an important few -- not let lowly recruits gossip about it.”

Ori shrugged. “One of them said something about knowing someone who knew someone. It looks like Captain Dwalin went after dwarves that Kollr had forced to work for him.”

Balin’s expression soured. “Well, it sounds like my brother went about it intelligently, at least,” he muttered to himself. “That’s good to hear.”

“Is he going to be in trouble with the Watch?” Ori asked.

“Well, that depends on a number of factors, lad,” Balin said. “First, there’s how much evidence they can dig up during their investigation into Kollr’s murder, and if any of it will point to Dwalin. Then, there’s the fact that Kollr Longshanks knew a number of dwarves among the Watch. Now, if any of them were loyal enough to him to go after his killer, my brother might be in trouble, but it’s hard to say at this point.”

Ori frowned. “Does that mean Dori and I still aren’t safe?”

“Not necessarily, lad.” Balin shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about anymore. Not with the message that was left on Kollr’s body.”

“Message?” Ori asked, torn between nausea at the pictures his imagination was supplying him with, and overwhelming curiosity at what his soulmate would’ve left behind on the body. “What message?”

Balin pulled a slip of paper from the inside pocket of his robe and unfolded it. Ori could see dark, reddish-brown smudges in addition to a scrawled message. “‘He knows why he had to die this way.’”

Ori frowned, completely mystified. “What?”

Balin snorted. “I think my brother was trying to make a point. The only dwarves who knew the specifics of what happened to you are Dwalin, those of us who rescued you, and the dwarves who knew that you were being tortured. This note doesn’t point the finger at any one dwarf, but it doesn’t identify the killer either.” He lifted his gaze from the piece of paper to look Ori in the eye, his own a solemn brown. “And if a dwarf is going to go through the trouble of breaking their prisoner’s teeth to shove this into his mouth, that’s going to be someone the Watch will be interested in.”

Ori’s eyes widened. “I thought…” He tried to imagine Dwalin punching someone so hard in the mouth that it broke their teeth. It was frighteningly easy.

“Like I said before, you don’t need to know the rest of what happened to him,” Balin said firmly.

“So…” Ori had difficulty swallowing. “So… who is he addressing with the note?”

A smile tugged at Balin’s lips. “You caught that too, did you? I imagine it’s for Kollr’s accomplices. You said there were Watch guards involved the day that Dori was attacked?”

Ori winced at having forgotten that Kollr Longshanks wasn’t the only dwarf that Nori had crossed. “Captain Solvi.”

Balin nodded. “Since the note isn’t addressed to him specifically, his position in the Watch isn’t threatened. But at the same time, he hears the message loud and clear that if he were to go after you or Dori, he’d suffer the same fate as Kollr.”

“Is that going to be enough to keep him from attacking us?” Ori asked with a worried frown. Dori had been able to fight back against Kollr’s thugs because they’d broken into his home. But against dwarves who were part of the City Watch -- dwarves that Dori had always told Ori to cooperate with, no matter what -- he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know.” Balin sighed heavily. “I hope so.”

***

The paper seemed to alternate between mocking him, and offering unlimited potential.

Sitting as his desk, Ori had more than enough paper on hand that he could spare a sheet or two for practice, but his sense of frugality developed from years of barely having enough money to buy food didn’t want to use more paper than he had to. He could write out something small and see if he couldn’t find a merchant heading for the Iron Hills who wouldn’t mind delivering a message…

_Dear Nori,_

Ori bit his lip, not sure if he wanted to identify Nori by name. He could have a bounty on his head, for all Ori knew. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering what Nori had been doing all this time since he’d left Ered Luin.

He scratched through the line quickly and began again. _Brother_.

There, that would work.

_I hope this letter finds you well. Things have changed quite a lot since you were here last. Kollr_

Ori winced, crossing out the name quickly, trying to reassure himself that this was just a first draft, and it was all right to make mistakes. He hated wasting paper, but there were so many things he wanted to say, and he wasn’t sure just how much he could say without getting Nori in trouble.

_Do you remember that criminal, Kollr Longshanks? It sounds like someone’s killed him. He was found earlier today_

Ori winced again. It felt too forced -- he was going to be paying a merchant to try to find a dwarf living out in the middle of nowhere, and if the merchant read the letter, he might wonder why it was so important that Ori would want to tell a dwarf about the death of a criminal in Ered Luin.

With a sigh, he crossed out the lines he’d just written.

_A certain mutual acquaintance of ours has died recently._

Ori frowned. He hated calling a dwarf like Kollr Longshanks an ‘acquaintance’ instead of the bottom-feeding criminal that he was. He crossed out that line as well. Maybe it was better to just leave out the whys entirely?

_Please come home. I miss you. And even if he won’t say it himself, Dori misses you too._

Ori nodded to himself, relieved that was saying what he wanted to, but as he stared at the words, his vision started to blur as his eyes burned with tears.

It was a simple enough message, but he knew Nori still wouldn’t know just how much had happened while he was gone. He wouldn’t know about how Ori had gotten kidnapped and had been forced to face the possibility that if he didn’t die, he could’ve been blind for the rest of his life. Or how Dori had left his job at the tailor shop to protect the owner and apprentices who worked there, only to be attacked at the home where they’d lived for so many years together by Kollr Longshanks’ thugs. Or how much he and Dori had worried about each other, and about Nori too.

Gritting his teeth, Ori blew on the ink to get it to dry faster, and set it aside to start on a fresh sheet of paper.

_Brother,_

_Please come home. I miss you. And even if he won’t say it himself, Dori misses you too._

Ori hesitated before adding _It’s safe now._ and then signing his name.

Carefully removing the sheet from the stack, Ori set his quill down to let it dry before he picked up the candle and headed for his room. When he got there, he set the note down on top of the chest of drawers to dry, and snuffed the candle before crawling into bed.

***

"Why is it so difficult to find someone to deliver this?" Ori grumbled as he turned away from the second merchant caravan to turn him away that morning. He sat down on the edge of a nearby fountain, and cradled his head in his hands.

"Well, you don't know where your brother is, do you?" Fili said, sitting down next to him. "He could be in one of the settlements near Ered Luin, or even in the woods, for all we know. It would be a lot of time and work to find him, no matter where he was. And they've got goods to sell, don't they?"

"And what if he doesn't _want_ to be found?" Kili added. "If he thinks that somebody's coming after him, he'd just try harder to not get caught."

Ori lifted his head to glare half-heartedly at the pair of them. "This would be a lot easier if you two weren't being so logical."

The brothers preened at the compliment before Fili's smirk slipped. "You know that we'd take it to him for you."

Ori shook his head. "Thank you, but no. If you're right, and nobody is going to be able to find him, then it doesn't matter _who_ goes. It has to be someone he would trust, and even then, he might get scared that it was a trap, or something."

"Well, why don't you go?" Kili asked brightly.

Both Fili and Ori looked up at him, sighed, and shook their heads.

"You remember what Master Balin told us," Fili murmured, speaking just loud enough that only the two of them could hear him. "Ori's still in danger, which means no running off."

"Besides," Ori said, "This is the first time I've had a break to myself in the past few weeks. Master Balin's been keeping me too busy to do more than bring him tea, eating, and sleeping. You probably won't need to escort me on any errands anytime soon."

Both brothers looked at him, Kili more shocked than Fili.

Ori snorted. "You two have been trailing after me every time I so much as step outside your uncle's halls. I'm not that stupid."

"You're not stupid at all," Fili said firmly. "We just thought we were being a bit more subtle than that."

Ori stared at him.

Fili shrugged. "All right, we're still learning. But at least we know who to go to when we're in trouble."

Ori frowned. "Who's that?"

"Your older brother," Fili answered. "And then your master to let him know that something happened to you."

At Ori's startled look, Kili nodded. "We're under orders and everything."

"You wouldn't report to Master Dwalin?" Ori couldn't help asking.

Fili shook his head. "We can't always find him straight away. We're to get reinforcements, and that means Dori."

"He'd kill us otherwise," Kili added confidentially. "I wouldn't want to cross him."

Ori snorted. "He's just fussy. You don't have to be scared of him."

"You keep telling yourself that," Fili said, patting Ori's shoulder. "Now, where to?"

"Dori's," Ori said, with an innocent smile.

***

Ori's old home looked much like it had before the attack. The stone was solid, though the door looked new. He knocked a few times, trying to ignore Fili and Kili standing right behind him.

The door opened to find a solid-looking dwarrowdam with olive skin. Her hair was stiff, the thick, salt-and-pepper locks twisted together and down into an intricately-braided beard and mustache. Her light brown eyes looked at Ori for a second, a bit puzzled, before her expression cleared when she spied Fili and Kili.

"You must be Ori!" she said, her soft burr marking her as an Ereborian, though she wasn’t as pale as he was used to seeing in the refugees. "Come in, come in!" She threw a beefy arm around Ori's shoulders and half-dragged him in, leaning in close enough to stage whisper into his ear, "Your brother won't say out loud to me, but he's missed you something terrible."

"Oh, ah--" Ori tried, aiming a slightly panicked look over his shoulder at Fili and Kili. The brothers looked surprised for a moment before they started laughing their arses off. And then they waved farewell and sauntered off.

"Oh, don't pay the boys no mind," the dwarrowdam said with a laugh. "They're good lads, but they've training to do, if they know what's good for 'em. You'll be in my very safe, capable hands while they're not here, I can assure you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ori muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" she demanded, her lips still smiling. Her eyes, however, carried a glint that Ori didn't want to cross.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Where's Dori?"

"Maris?" Dori called from the kitchen. "Who was that at the door?"

"Your little brother!" Maris boomed, dragging Ori over to the kitchen. It felt incredibly strange to be dragged around the house that he'd lived in ever since he was little by someone who'd been there only a few weeks.

"What?" Dori squawked before the kitchen door was thrown open. "Ori! What're you doing here?" He glanced past Maris and Ori, and then scowled thunderously. "Where are those two troublemakers?"

"They buggered off when they saw Ori was in good hands," Maris purred. Ori was fairly sure that her purring was more startling than hearing her speak loudly right next to his ear.

“They weren’t supposed to disappear,” Dori growled, removing Ori from Maris’ grip and squeezing his shoulders gently. “How are they supposed to escort you back to your master if they’re run off?”

Ori sighed, his spirits sinking. He’d been hoping to visit for a little while, which he’d told Fili and Kili before they reached Dori’s home. “Should I leave and try to find them?”

Dori shot him a startled look before frowning. “No, absolutely not. I wasn’t joking when I told your master that you weren’t to walk around unescorted.”

“Well, seeing as how you don’t want me here--” Ori grumbled.

Dori cut him off with a bone-crushing hug. “Nonsense,” he muttered into Ori’s ear. “Just because I wasn’t expecting to see you doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to see you. I’m just--”

Ori found himself released from the hug suddenly, with Dori dusting off his shoulders.

“Yes, well,” Dori said briskly. “We’ve only just had supper, but there are some leftovers, if you’ve an appetite.”

Ori blinked. A few moments later, a plate of lukewarm food was shoved into his hands. “Thank you.”

Dori nodded firmly. “You’ve already met Maris,” he said, gesturing toward the dwarrowdam politely, who wore a look on her face that was torn between warm approval and something akin to lust. Ori found himself remembering that Maris’s cover was supposed to be that she was courting her brother, but he wondered if the cover wasn’t entirely a lie.

Ori nodded politely to her. “A pleasure--” he had been about to address her as ‘Miss’, but then he remembered that she had a title from her work. “Err, is it Captain?”

Maris’s brown eyes blinked once before she started laughing loudly. “I’m good, lad, but not _that_ good. ‘Miss’ is just fine by me.” There was a small hint of warning in her eyes.

Ori gulped and nodded. “Miss Maris,” he said with a small smile. He turned to Dori, and frowned. “Where’s Nidi? Did he run off somewhere?”

The door leading to the front room opened, and Nidi barged in, sniffing loudly. “Hey, Mister Dori, sir, is that--” He stopped, eyeing Ori for a minute. “Oh, it’s you.”

Maris gave him a light smack upside the head. “Manners.”

“Ow!” Nidi whined, rubbing at his head and glaring over his shoulder at her. “What'd you do _that_ for?” he demanded.

“It’s bad manners to not say hello,” Dori snapped. “We’ve been over this.” Nonetheless, he was serving up another plate, and shoving it into Nidi’s hands, along with a fork. “Use the fork.”

Nidi pulled a face that said just as clearly that he knew how to use one, thank you very much, Mister Dori, _sir_ , and was tempted to start using his fingers anyway.

Ori decided to cut the argument off at the knees. “It’s good to see you, Nidi.”

Nidi’s eyes widened, genuinely startled for a moment, before he pulled a smirk that looked painfully close to Nori’s. “You finish reading that book?” he tried to drawl. His cheeks went pink.

“What?” Ori stared at him in total confusion before he remembered the tome that Nidi had brought to his master. “Oh! That one-- yes, my master was finished with it.”

Dori shot Nidi a curious look. Nidi smirked back, his cheeks getting pinker. “There were pictures of dwarves tupping in there.”

Dori gave Ori a reproachful glare, clearly demanding an explanation as to why he was looking at smutty books.

Ori juggled the plate well enough to hold up one hand in surrender. “Master Balin said it was a book of spells! He was looking through it for something, and no--” He scowled at Nidi. “I didn’t read any of it because I was too busy with work.”

“Busy with work, yeah,” Nidi smirked again. He picked up the fork from his plate, and then started shoveling food into his mouth.

Ori watched him. “Quite a change from when you were bringing the book to us. Did one of your friends explain what you saw in it?”

Nidi’s eyes shot wide open before he started choking. Luckily, he managed to keep his grip on his plate before Maris gave him a few good wallops on his back. When the coughing subsided, he shot Ori an impressive glare.

Dori sighed heavily. “Ori, don’t ask about those sorts of topics while you’re standing in my kitchen, and for Mahal’s sake, go sit down at the table before you drop something. Nidi, you go sit at the table too -- you’re not an Orc, and no one is going to take your food away from you.”

Both dwarves went to the dining table, not looking at each other until they sat down. Ori could hear Dori in the kitchen, beginning the process of cleaning up the dishes. Given the low murmur of conversation he could hear through the door, it looked like it was common for Maris to help out.

Ori turned to Nidi, taking in the dark brown eyes and the scruffy, red hair escaping the long, thick braid trailing down his back. Unlike Ori’s hair when he’d been that age, Nidi’s hair was thick enough to hold a braid, but thin enough that it looked like Dori had chosen not to try to hack it off. Whatever the dwarfling had been doing for himself, it looked like he was better off than when Ori had first met him.

Nidi scowled at him, the pink in his cheeks dying down now that he wasn’t actively choking or embarrassed. “If you want my hair, it’s going to cost you more than you’ve got.”

Ori emerged from his thoughts to blink at Nidi a few times. “Hmm? Oh, sorry.”

Nidi’s scowl darkened. “Then what’s the stare for?”

Ori snorted. “Not everyone who looks at you is trying to get something out of you.”

For a moment, Nidi stared at him, looking much older. “You ain’t been around long, have you?” he sneered. He seemed to realize that he might’ve said too much, because he cradled his plate closer to him, and went back to shoveling food into his mouth.

Ori stared at him for a long moment, surprised at the momentary change. It had been simple to think that if Dori had mothered him within an inch of his life before he had started his apprenticeship, that Dori did that with just about _everyone_ , including a smart-mouthed dwarfling who was probably somewhere in his early fifties. But maybe that hadn’t been the case.

Even now, as Ori looked the smaller dwarf over, he could see a tiny scar on his cheek that he hadn’t had the last time Ori had seen him. Nidi had a habit of walking around at night -- Ori remembered that much from when he’d dragged Fili and Kili home, well before the mess with Kollr Longshanks had started.

Nidi was back to scowling at him. “What?” he demanded belligerently.

“Dori would let you stay, if you asked,” Ori murmured, leaning down over his plate and picking at his food. It was a good chicken and vegetable mix-up with chips, and after Ori carefully pushed the offending greenery away from the chicken, he let himself savor it. The chips, already getting soggy from the chicken sauce, were just the right blend of crunchy and salty.

For a moment, Nidi’s brown eyes widened, making him look even younger than he was, and then he narrowed his eyes at Ori before glaring at his plate and muttering, “He might.”

“He would,” Ori corrected. “Nori told you to come here when you needed to eat or a place to stay, didn’t he?”

Nidi shoveled more food into his mouth. “Doesn’t want me around, does he?”

Ori blinked. For a moment, he thought that Nidi had been referring to Nori, but then told himself how stupid that idea had been, if Nori had told him to come see Dori. “What? Why would you think that?”

Nidi snorted. “I’ve got eyes.” He glared balefully at the kitchen door -- presumably at Dori and Maris on the other side of it.

Ori snorted so hard, it tickled his nose. “If you think that Dori wouldn’t mother you until you hit your first century, you’re sillier than I thought.”

Nidi started in his chair before glaring back at Ori. “You haven’t seen these two carrying on.” His cheeks turned a bright red before he shoved his face back into his food.

Ori rolled his eyes. “She’s _protecting_ him.”

“From Longshanks, yeah, only he’s dead now, idn’ee?” Nidi said, his mouth half-full with chicken. He swallowed loudly, and gave Ori a pitying look. “She’s under orders, like me. Only her orders come from somebody on the Watch, and mine come from Nori.” He returned his attention to his plate, only to discover that the only things left on it were the vegetables and the chips. He pushed his plate away with an unimpressed look.

“You should try the chips,” Ori murmured, pointing with his fork out of habit. “They’re pretty good like this. Did Dori make them earlier?”

Nidi narrowed his eyes at him, and shook his head. “Nah. He was cutting up potatoes with _her_.”

Ori smiled. “That’s how he makes them. He cuts up potatoes into these things.” He picked up one that looked like it was less soggy than the others. “And he fries them up.” He bit into it and smiled. “He hasn’t made them in a long time, not since he started working at the tailor shop.”

“He don’t work there no more,” Nidi blurted out, watching single-mindedly as Ori ate another chip. He stared down at his plate, and then picked up one of the chips with his fingers. “Said he had to go because apprentices would get hurt if he didn’t.”

“He didn’t say that to your face, did he?” Ori had a feeling that he already knew the answer.

Nidi shrugged. “It was only because I asked about it at dinner.” When he saw Ori’s startled look, he went back to scowling. “He talked about it at the table a while back when _she_ asked why he was home so early, and that makes it fair game.”

Ori stared at him for a long moment. If he was right, and Nidi was somewhere in his early fifties, or even his late forties, then that only made him a few years younger than Ori himself. In years past, whenever Dori lost a job because of Nori, or because Ori had been too sick to leave alone, he’d always said that he didn’t like working there, or that he wasn’t any good at weaving or wood-carving, but Ori knew, deep down, that Dori had never told him the truth. For Dori to talk to Nidi like this now…

“You’ve said that before,” Ori said, catching onto the bit that reminded him of when he’d met the younger dwarf for the first time. “Why is anything brought up at the table fair game?”

Nidi glared at his chips and vegetables as if they’d personally offended him. “S’from Nori. Nori said that he weren’t going to hide from us, ‘cause we already know the deal. He followed the rule, same as us, and nobody lied.”

Ori’s gaze sunk down to his own plate, and he picked up a chip, lazily swirling it in the specks of chicken sauce. “I should’ve guessed. Nori would’ve told me more if it hadn’t been for Dori, I think.”

Nidi shrugged, not looking up.

Ori found himself watching the younger dwarf again, this time wondering if Nidi was how Nori would’ve raised a little one of his own. Where Dori mothered, Nori shrugged and let them get into trouble. Where Dori sugar-coated everything and gave warm hugs, Nori told the truth and didn’t bother with trying to be reassuring.

“What do you want?” Nidi muttered, sounding tired.

What _did_ he want? He wanted Nori back, instead of feeling like he was clutching at scraps of him. The short letter in the pocket of his trousers felt almost like a lead weight, and then suddenly, Ori had an idea.

“Do you know of anyone who might be able to find Nori?” he whispered, glancing at the door to the kitchen before continuing, “I have a note I want to send him, but I can’t leave the city right now.”

Nidi’s eyes widened for a moment before he visibly relaxed his shoulders, and narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to you if I do?”

Ori snorted. “I need someone who can find him, deliver the note, and then come back to let me know that they found him. Nori could be anywhere -- some other settlement near Ered Luin, out in the woods…”

Nidi’s nose twitched for a moment before he leaned forward, a study in casual anticipation. “Like I said, what’s it to you? How much are you willing to pay?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Ori whispered back quickly. “Dori would skin me alive if he found out I’d asked you.”

That haunted look came back to Nidi’s eyes. “He’d pretend to.”

Ori stared back at him. “It’s not pretending when he makes chips, Nidi. He only makes it for family.”

Instead of getting that surprised look that he got whenever something happened to him that was nice, Nidi gave Ori a half-hearted glare. “Fine. So, he’ll just skin you alive if he finds out you’re trying to send a message.”

“Yes, he would,” Ori grumbled. “I want to find someone who’s older, who won’t get lost or killed, and can give Nori a message. It could take a long time to find him, if they even find him at all, but I’m willing to pay for it.”

“Can’t find anyone if they don’t know how much is in it for them,” Nidi grumbled back, eating more chips.

“And if we could get Nori back to Ered Luin?”

Nidi froze, staring at him.

Ori nodded. “Kollr Longshanks is dead. I’m willing to pay anybody who can take the message to him so that he can come home.”

Nidi continued staring at him blankly before he shoved all of the food that was on his plate into his mouth -- even the vegetables -- swallowed, and picked up his plate. He moved with the air of someone who’d been struck in the head with a hammer.

“Nidi?” Ori asked, starting to get worried.

Nidi headed into the kitchen without another word.

The rest of the visit passed by quietly. Maris complimented him on his apprenticeship, and by the time that Fili and Kili had returned, Dori wouldn’t stop hugging him, and sent him off with a small bag of cookies. Nidi left at the same time Ori did, much to Dori’s sarcastic complaints and Maris’s stern admonitions to keep safe, but when Ori was about to leave in one direction, Nidi grabbed his sleeve.

“Do you really think he’d come back?” he muttered.

Ori frowned for a moment, temporarily confused about who Nidi was referring to. When he remembered, he nodded. “I think so.”

Nidi looked up at him, and in the low lamplight, his eyes looked wide and hopeful. “Gimme the message.”

Ori started to shake his head. “Nidi--”

Nidi glowered. “When are you going to come back, then? Can’t go find you, can I? Not with all those toshes and Watch around.”

Fili and Kili watched the exchange, and when Kili opened his mouth to say something, Fili elbowed him in the side.

“I don’t know,” Ori said evenly. “But you can’t go running off into the wilderness by yourself.”

“Just like you can’t get apprenticed?” Nidi asked snidely. “Or hurt when you’re supposed to be safe?”

Ori frowned. “How did you--”

“Mister Dori sir said it at the table,” Nidi said.

Ori gritted his teeth. He was fairly sure it was a lie, but Fili and Kili were standing right next to him, and he didn’t want to have to spend all night on Dori’s doorstep -- not when his older brother could interrupt them.

“Fine,” he said. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the letter he’d written. Nidi started to reach for it, but Ori snatched it away at the last moment. “I’ll let you do this if you promise me something.”

Nidi rolled his eyes. “I’ll be careful.”

Ori shook his head. “No, not that.”

Nidi scowled. “Then what?”

“You have to promise that after you deliver this, you come back to Dori and live here with him.”

Nidi’s eyes widened.

“Ori--” Fili began, but Ori held up a hand to him.

“I’ll explain later, Fili,” Ori said quickly, his gaze still on Nidi. “You have to come back here as soon as you deliver it. No fooling around, no joking. Come back here, and live here. Follow Dori’s rules, let him fuss over you and take care of you until you’re of age. Got it?”

Nidi’s eyes hardened. “Doesn’t want me,” he sneered. “Too much trouble.”

“Let him decide that,” Ori said firmly. “Promise me on your Dark-Name that you’ll do as I say.”

“Promise,” Nidi said, too quickly.

Ori scowled at him. “On Nori, then.”

Nidi stared at him for a long moment, his eyes flicking to the letter in Ori’s hand and back to Ori, as if silently gauging whether or not he could make a grab for the letter without having to promise anything.

Fili and Kili stepped forward, with Kili cracking his knuckles.

“Do as he says,” Fili murmured. “It goes easier, that way.”

Ori could tell the moment that Nidi stopped fighting, because he deflated like a bellows. “Fine. I swear on Nori that I’ll deliver the note.”

“And?” Ori said firmly.

“And come back to Mister Dori sir,” Nidi mumbled, looking away from Ori’s gaze as he did so.

Ori nodded, figuring that he would take what he could get. “Here you are. And don’t open it before you give it to Nori.”

Nidi snatched the paper out of his hands and shoved it down his trousers. “Don’t open it, fine.” He sneered at the three of them. “Any other demands, Mister _Ori_ sir?”

Ori answered the question seriously. “Just be careful. You’ll see when you get back.”

Nidi gave him a confused look before he shrugged and walked away.

***

"Master?"

"Hmmm?"

"Not that I'm not grateful for the break," Ori said carefully, "but where are we going?"

Balin stopped walking, looking at his apprentice with a frown. "Didn't I tell you before you left to visit your brother?"

Ori shook his head.

Balin hummed, and then continued walking. "Well, you'll see soon enough."

Ori nodded to himself.

They made their way towards the center of Ered Luin in silence for several minutes before Balin spoke up again.

“By the by,” Balin said, sounding almost too casual. “I heard that a certain someone of our acquaintance has left Ered Luin, and won’t be back for some time.” Brown eyes glanced over at him expectantly.

 _Dwalin_ , Ori thought to himself. He waited for his stomach to turn, his heart to beat faster…

And found that he felt only a vague sense of regret. “Safe journey to him,” he said politely.

Balin hummed, sounding mildly surprised or impressed (Ori wasn’t sure which), and kept walking.

***

The Hall of Ordeals had a large entryway, at least fifty high, topped with a dome laced with gold and silver inlays to create the illusion of sunlight shining down on the shining floor. Ori had already turned around twice since he and Master Balin had entered, and was in danger of falling over from craning his neck to look at the filigree work where the walls met the domed ceiling, laced with gold and silver inlays that gave the illusion of sunlight shining down on the floor.

There were dwarves walking through, nearly all of them had an air of needing to finish errands in a hurry. Most, if not all, of them were wearing robes of some kind, the older dwarves and dwarrowdams wearing more ornate robes of somber colors.

Ori brought his gaze back down from the filigree work to find that Balin had made a beeline for the front desk. Ori hurried to catch up, and before he could ask why they were here, his master smiled.

"Do you know where I might find the first round of testing taking place this morning?" Balin murmured.

The dwarrowdam sitting at the desk, skinny with hazel eyes and a carefully styled mustache and goatee, cleared her throat, checked a large tome right next to her, and then murmured with an Ered Luin lilt, "Viewing galleries for the written preliminary can be found on the fourth floor, Master."

Balin nodded, smiling again. "My thanks."

As the two of them walked away, Ori leaned in as close to Balin's ear as he could without tripping. "Written preliminary?"

"Aye," Balin said, glancing at him with a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous smile. "Testing." They made their way to a grand staircase where at least ten dwarves could walk side by side without brushing shoulders, and began their ascent.

Three staircases and a labyrinth of twists and turns later, Ori had trouble remembering how they’d gotten to the small corridor they found themselves in. Balin looked like he knew where he was going, because he soon opened a door to reveal a balcony with seating that overlooked a large room.

The room below was enormous, with rows of wooden desks, each with a stack of paper, a set of quills, and four ink bottles lined up neatly on one side. All of the desks were facing towards a raised dais on Ori’s right, and were spaced wide enough apart that a dwarf could comfortably walk between them. All around them, there were dwarves filing onto the balcony, some of them taking seats, others standing near the edges.

"Master?" Ori murmured.

The dwarves standing near them turned to give him a quelling look before returning their attention to the room below.

As Ori watched, there was the sound of a door opening, and then dwarves at least thirty years older than him were filing in silently, each finding a specific desk, and then sitting down. All of them seemed to be only wearing underclothes, one or two wearing shirts and trousers, but for the most part wearing long underwear that covered them from collarbones to toes, leaving their hands free.

After the dwarves sat at the desks, more dwarves entered from the sides of the room. On average, they looked well past middle-age, each of them wearing ornate, green robes. There were one or two dwarves who were younger, probably just past their first century, but they were definitely in the minority. The eldest dwarves seemed to be standing near the dais, staring at the dwarves at the desks. One dwarrowdam moved to stand at the podium on the dais, her skin a dark brown, her hair twisted into snowy locks that braided into her muttonchops and thin beard.

"This is the preliminary examination for the art of scrivening," she said, sounding like a thunderclap. Her accent was unusual, rounding the vowels and softening the harder consonants as Ori listened. "You will have six hours to complete the work handed to you. Anyone caught cheating will be expelled immediately, no exceptions. Raising your eyes from your work will constitute cheating." She looked up at the dwarves on the second floor balconies, her bright eyes like gold coins, shining in the torchlight. "There will be absolute silence. Any infraction of this rule will be dealt with severely."

Ori gulped.

She turned her attention back to the seated dwarves. "Begin."

Each dwarf moved as one, reaching for a sheaf of papers that looked nearly as long as Ori's forearm, removing a quill from an ink bottle at the corner of their desks, and turning to the first page. The scratching of quills against paper sounded almost like the buzz of an axe against a grindstone.

Ori grabbed his master's arm quickly, feeling like if he didn't say something soon, he was going to explode. Balin hadn’t explained the full process of becoming a scribe when Ori had first accepted his apprenticeship with him, though had Ori thought about it for more than five minutes, it would have made sense that there would be a stringent examination period. Idly remembering his first week with Balin and the yellowed page about Durin the Deathless, Ori found himself wondering what the apprentices below were faced with that was supposed to take six hours to complete.

Part of him wondered if Balin hadn’t told him the process of becoming a scribe because he didn’t have any faith, but Ori dismissed that immediately. Between discovering his soulmate, having been threatened by a crime lord trying to drag Nori out of hiding, and then his own torture, Ori found himself thinking that maybe his master had thought he’d dealt with quite enough already without having to worry about this too. Still, it didn’t explain why Balin had brought him here, now, to watch dwarves older than him taking a written preliminary and looking like their lives depended on it.

Balin turned to him, giving him a quizzical frown.

Ori pointed quickly to the door they'd entered through.

Balin headed back to the hallway, with Ori trailing after him. Ori closed the door firmly behind him.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Balin asked, still plainly confused. “Are you all right?”

“What’s happening in there?” Ori blurted out. It was a stupid question, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. The idea that he was here to watch this had been too surprising to believe.

“Didn’t you hear Master Zuris, lad?” Balin asked, looking concerned. “That was the first round of testing for scrivening apprentices.”

No, Ori thought blankly to himself. It was still too impossible to believe. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a simple enough process, here in Ered Luin,” Balin said, either not noticing his student’s shock, or politely ignoring it. “After a dwarf has been apprenticed with a master of good standing between ten and fifteen years, and their master deems them ready, they can sit for the examinations in order to be promoted to journeyman status and register with the guild. They’re held each year, and it’s usually the top twenty that make it through to becoming journeymen.”

Ori blinked, hearing the words but not quite understanding them. “Why would you bring me to see them?”

There was a definite twinkle in Balin’s eyes. “To give you a taste of your future.” With a grin and a hearty pat on the shoulder, he added, “Though I’ll wager that you’ll make it here in ten, maybe eleven years at the most.”

Ori blinked again. “You think I can…” He looked back at the door that they’d just walked through.

“Ori.”

Ori turned back to his master, to see Balin watching him with a solemn expression.

“I don’t _think_ so, lad,” he said firmly. “I _know_ so.”

That was the moment that it felt like a door had swung open. All of the months leading up to this point -- all of the worry, the pain, the highs and lows -- had been stepping stones. Some of them had been harder than others. Some of them had been surprisingly easy.

But now it felt like something had changed inside of him, like a thunderclap off in the distance.

Master Balin watched him, a little confused but still patient.

Ori couldn’t have found the words to describe what he was feeling just then. It had felt like such a simple thing, but it had been leapt and grown in bounds until it felt too enormous to keep in his chest.

Somewhere in Arda, Nori was out there, and Nidi was foolishly chasing after him.

Dori was home with Maris. Fili and Kili were likely off getting into trouble, if they weren’t training.

And Dwalin… somewhere in the world, Dwalin was alive.

“Lad?” Balin asked gently, looking worried as he rested his hands on Ori’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

Ori breathed in slowly through his nose, and nodded. “I think so.”

“Do you want to head back?” Balin asked, seemingly not quite believing him.

Ori nodded firmly. “I’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the fic!
> 
> Not to worry, everybody -- there's definitely more to come. Still, I didn't want this to turn into a sprawling monster, so keep an eye out for the next fic in the series, and we'll see how the journey goes from there?
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful betas, ForAllLove, Elsajeni, and Penniform -- you're all amazing people!
> 
> And most especially, thank you to all of my readers! Whether you were here at Chapter 1, or you just recently found this fic, I want to thank you all for continuing to read, even when I had bouts of writer's block. Your comments and kudos mean _a lot_ to me, and they've kept me going when there were times I contemplated quitting. Thank you all for your support!

**Author's Note:**

> Geez, I completely forgot to add this!
> 
> Look! The fic has an actual title now! Yay!
> 
> Also! For the people who've been wanting to read side scenes and such, look no further than [Marginal Notes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/896653). I'll try to update it when I can, but I thought you guys might be interested. :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Indelible Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072932) by [elenorasweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenorasweet/pseuds/elenorasweet)




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